All Great Cliches are Based on Truth
by DinoDina
Summary: When Jack Harkness comes to Cardiff, he meets Ianto Jones. As Ianto shows him around the city and its surrounding areas, Jack discovers several things about himself and what he wants from life. AU Janto, very fluffy.
1. Chapter 1

The wind coming from the bay was unusually harsh, but Jack had been told that Welsh weather never did anything anyone told it to do, so even calling it _unusual_ didn't make sense. Not that he was intimately familiar with Welsh weather, or even Wales. He wasn't. He'd only been there for a day, and most of that day he'd spent in his hotel, sleeping off the jet-lag.

But he had friends who'd used to live here—here being Cardiff—and they'd sent him a list of attractions before he'd flown in.

But Jack, despite being a world traveller, was a very disorganized man. It was his friends' fault of course, and that they'd not only neglected to text him the list but had expected him to keep hold of the paper copy.

So, on an extraordinarily windy day, Jack found himself on the Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff, Wales, facing the Millennium Centre and trying with all his might to remember what else had been on the list. Sadly, this was all he could remember, but judging from the number of tourists, it was a popular place.

Jack's knowledge of popular places amounted to this: they had information about other popular places. So, like the experienced world traveller he was, Jack set off in search of the nearest tourist office or information booth.

Ten minutes of searching later, Jack found himself ambling down a staircase. He was a on a dock, right next to the water. It was beautiful but cold, and Jack pulled his coat—a vintage RAF greatcoat he'd gotten in London several years ago—tighter around himself. He took a few pictures and was just prepared to go back when something caught his eye.

At the end of the dock, built into what was probably the Plass, was a small shop. A closer look showed it to be a tourist office, an _Open_ sign cheerily hanging in one of the windows.

Jack put his phone away and approached. The storefront was slightly bare and bleak, but the lights inside were on, letting out a warm glow, so Jack supposed it was just the secluded location that gave the office its desolate atmosphere. But he hadn't even gone inside yet. Jack shook his head and pushed the door open, listening to the soft ring of the bell and looking around.

There was a single desk near the wall, currently unoccupied but not completely empty; stacks of postcards, souvenir books, and information packets were neatly placed in strategic locations; bright but not blinding lights hung from the ceiling and unlit fairy lights decorated the windows.

"How can I help you?"

Jack turned to the source of the voice. Soft, male, and with a soft Welsh accent, its owner wearing a suit and smiling warmly at him. He was tall, around Jack's height, with short dark hair, long, neat sideburns, and blue eyes. He'd come from the side of the office, from behind a beaded curtain, and was making his way towards Jack, clearly expecting an answer.

Jack's mouth caught up to his brain when the man stopped in front of him. "Hi."

"Hello." Clearly amused, the man was still expectant and the perfect vision of polite customer service.

"Can you point me towards some points of interest? Please?" Jack rubbed the back of his head. "I had a list, but I misplaced it."

"Of course." Giving Jack another smile, the man plucked several brochures off a rack. "What sort of things did you have in mind?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm afraid I have no idea."

"First time in Wales, then?"

"Yeah." He watched as the man ruffled the papers. "Give me any exotic location, I'll explore it all I can. Asia, South America… Europe, even. But I've never known what to do with myself in the UK, you know?"

The man laughed. "I'm afraid my adventurous world traveller side has yet to be unleashed."

"Oh, you'd love it!" Jack enthused; it was his passion, after all. He didn't know the man, but he was easy to talk to, even if it was probably just pointless customer service small talk. "Well, maybe you wouldn't, but I don't think anyone can't."

"I'll take your word for it." Another smile. If Jack didn't know better, he'd say that the man was flirting. But maybe he _didn't_ know better, and that was a very welcome thought; some people he felt like he just clicked with. "Now, what sort of thing would you like?"

"I don't know." Jack wasn't sure if he was guilty or amused. "My friends made the list for me, so I thought I'd follow it and I didn't take anything more than a small look at it before, and now I'm just lost."

The man laughed, bright and clear. "That's quite a predicament."

"I know." Jack pouted, then his face lit up. "Hey, you're Welsh!"

"That's a miraculous observation." His tone stone-dry, the man raised an amused eyebrow.

"No, not in a bad way." Jack waved his hand. "I mean that _you_ can tell me where to go."

"That's what I was about to do."

"No, not like that. I mean personally."

A second eyebrow joined the first.

"I mean show me where I should go. You know, places you like, facts you find interesting, things you enjoy. I always like the personal aspect of travelling, but I've lost mine." Jack was flirting now, and he knew it. The man in front of him was beautiful, even in his incredulity. Jack gave his best pleading pout. "Please?"

"Yeah, alright." The man's eyes lit up and he widened his smile, losing the careful professionalism for a moment before sticking out his hand. "Ianto."

"What?"

"My name. Ianto. Ianto Jones."

"Oh." Jack grasped the offered hand. _A beautiful name for a beautiful man_. "Jack Harkness."

"Come on, then." Ianto beckoned him closer to the desk. "Let's find you some destinations."

Jack wasn't haunted by delusions of grandeur. He'd grown up travelling between the US and the UK, and spent the majority of his adult life doing the same. He frequented remote parts of the planet and had no permanent home. He had enough money to allow such a lifestyle, at any rate, his father having gotten much of his fortune from stocks. Jack himself wasn't a businessman, doing odd jobs to get money he didn't need.

Some would call him frivolous, and they would be right, but he had a heart of gold and an unmatched thirst for adventure that he'd picked up during his stint in the RAF, but that was neither here nor there.

He wasn't a romantic or a dreamer, not really, believing in realism most of the time. But he had eyes, and when a gorgeous man was smiling at him… well, Jack considered himself an equal opportunity fellow. He wasn't one for long-lasting romance—it wasn't practical, and it _always_ ended in tears—but the same couldn't be said for casual hookups or even international flings.

(Never mind the fact that he dressed like a '40s film star and wanted to eventually ride out into the sunset. It just didn't happen in real life, and if he gave into the desire, he'd become blind to its impracticality).

He watched Ianto, leaned over his desk, flipping through the brochures and pointing out locations. Millennium Centre, Roald Dahl Plass, Cardiff Castle, boat tours, history museums, libraries, parks, restaurants, cinemas…

Jack was used to traipsing around remote villages and rainforests, with the occasional archeological dig or ancient location. Hell, even cobblestoned European villages. Cardiff was a modern city. It had its own historical significance, of course, but he was lost. He… he needed a tour guide.

As Ianto straightened out, intending to ask him something, Jack grinned at him. "Not to insult my own intelligence, because any insult would be unfounded, but I doubt I'll be able to get around myself _and_ get all the historical and cultural significance I'd love to get. So… d'you want to come with?"

Again, Ianto's eyebrows did an elaborate little dance before settling on an uneven, surprised position. "What?"

"You heard me. If you didn't, you would be so surprised." Jack folded his hands together. "You're nice, knowledgeable, and you seem pretty passionate about this. So how about it? Let that adventurous world traveller side of you free?"

"I…" He looked up and closed his eyes, considering the offer—or wondering if Jack was insane, which he wasn't—before looking back at Jack. "You're sure about this?"

The last time Jack had been so interested in someone, he'd been in Paris and she'd been a fan dancer. "I'm positive."

 **Quick note: this fic is complete... kind of. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but it's not. It's almost done, and getting beta-d, so I think I'll finish a chapter every few days. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was a romantic, if one in denial, so when Ianto suggested that they go to a nearby pub after the day's exploring, he found himself ridiculously thrilled. Ianto had flirted with him all day, sure, if one could call raised eyebrows, rolled eyes, and courtesy smiles flirting, but that was no reason for Jack to suddenly be head-over-heels in lust. Then again, Ianto's voice sent shivers down his spine—if he knew Welsh accents sounded so amazing, he would have visited sooner—and his eyes sparkled whenever he talked about something he was interested in, so maybe Jack was too far gone and it was too late to try to bring him to his senses.

"So have you come to your senses yet?" Ianto asked, setting a pint down in front of Jack and sitting across from him.

"Thanks," Jack said. "About what?"

"Stringing me along on your Cardiff adventure." Ianto smiled into his drink. "I know I'm not the most entertaining person, even if I'm here as your tour guide, not personal comedian."

"I think you're plenty entertaining," Jack assured him. "I'm just waiting for you to come to _your_ senses."

"What about?"

"Following me around." He grinned. "I'm a tourist, and you've only just met me. I've been called 'mental' twice here already."

Ianto snorted. "You _are_ mental, Jack. besides, if I wasn't showing you around, I'd be rotting in the tourist office. You're probably the first person in a week to come inside."

"I'm glad, then." Jack lifted his glass. "A toast, Ianto: to a great beginning to our friendship."

Ianto tapped his glass against Jack's, smiling and muttering something like "Overdramatic" under his breath.

But Jack didn't mind. He had plenty of friends around the world, from extended family all over the US, to best friends in the UK and Japan, to the Parisian fan dancer he still kept in touch with, to the tango instructor in Brazil that threatened to shoot him if he ever set foot in the country again. And Ianto Jones was quickly making his way onto the list of people Jack wanted to keep in touch with, not only because was beautiful and witty, but because he was kind and easy to talk to.

Jack didn't usually try to sleep with people he liked. If he liked them, they probably liked him, and that created all sorts of complications, because Jack was a world traveller without a home, and they weren't, and he didn't want to give up his freedom for something that wouldn't last.

Before the fan dancer, there had been Lucia, a fiery Italian. They'd met years ago, back when Jack had just started at the RAF, and they'd been _so_ close to a happily ever after, but now Jack was single and hadn't set foot in Italy since. Before Lucia, there had been John Hart, and they'd spent several months together, but it just hadn't worked out.

So now here he was: sitting in a pub somewhere in Cardiff, staring at Ianto Jones, and wondering why on Earth he wanted to head down that path again. He didn't know how long he'd stay in Wales—he didn't have a schedule, being his own master and playing everything by ear—so it could be days, weeks, or even months.

But if he _did_ say, what then? Would he pursue his interest in Ianto? Would Ianto reciprocate? Would he be disgusted? Would they get together? If they did—or didn't—would the friendship Jack had already started to value disappear? Was it too early to ask those questions?

The pleasant background melody of Ianto's voice suddenly stopped, the change dragging Jack out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just thinking." _About you_.

Ianto said nothing to that, and he didn't continue talking. It wasn't an awkward silence, not really, but Jack could tell he was at a loss. There wasn't a lot to talk about with a person one didn't know, and Jack couldn't very well tell him to keep talking because his voice was near-orgasmic. (Well, he could, but he didn't want to completely scare Ianto off.)

Jack's eyes strayed to the bar, where a group of younger women had just walked in. They had three men with them, also young, but they all looked unattached. Ianto followed his gaze.

"You can go, if you want." There was an amused note to his voice, and Jack jerked his head around to look at him. "I'm not keeping you here."

Jack looked down. Yes, the newcomers were attractive, but he didn't want to leave. "Do you _want_ me to go?"

Ianto's cheeks colored—or that was just the lighting—and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He took a drink before replying. "Only if you want to."

Jack sighed. "Now you're just being difficult."

Another smile, clearly amused this time, and not a hint of embarrassment. "I've been told that."

"I'm not surprised," Jack said. "You know, you have that air about you. It's a Tuesday and you're wearing a three-piece suit to a place where you said you didn't even get visitors. Sure, you took your tie and jacket off, but that was only ten minutes ago. I think, _Ianto Jones_ , that you are just as jealous, adventurous, and difficult as the rest of us… at least somewhere deep, _deep_ down."

"You met me not ten hours ago and you're psychoanalyzing me?"

It was a blatant challenge.

Jack had been around in his day. He'd tried his hand at business and hated it. He'd spent six months following around a psychologist and trying to figure out humanity—it had been after a particularly bad breakup and he'd just wanted to _know_ —before deciding that basic field medicine was all he could understand. He'd spent years in the RAF, and flying was still one of his favorite things to do, before becoming an adventurer.

Everything Jack had ever learned up until that time was pointing it in the same direction: Ianto was challenging him. And not in an alpha-male type of way, not at all… it was blatant flirting. (What on Earth was the matter with Ianto Jones if he flirted by being difficult and making expressive motions with his eyes?)

Jack mentally braced himself. "How about I _analyze_ you?"

"That's—" Ianto Jones gave a large guffaw, slipped off his chair, and disappeared under the table.

Jack gave a quick reassuring smile to the alarmed people at the nearby tables before ducking down after Ianto. "You okay?"

Ianto gave him a glare. "No." And buried his head in his hands with another helpless laugh. "That was _horrible_."

"Was it?"

" _Yes_."

"Sorry."

"You should be." Another laugh, quieter, this time. "I haven't heard anything so bad since uni."

Jack cringed. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

"But, hey!" Jack grinned. "At least it got you to laugh. Something tells me you don't do that often."

"Why?" Ianto said. "Is it because I've decided to spend my suit-wearing Tuesday showing you around, and only now I've lost it?"

"Well, yeah."

"Yeah," Ianto echoed. "Mind you, I don't know _how_ right you are, but you probably _are_. At least to some extent."

"Yeah."

Ianto snickered again. The space underneath the table wasn't big enough for two men to fit comfortably—although they could probably manage for a few more minutes—and maybe he found that amusing. Maybe he was still laughing at Jack's atrocious pick-up line. Maybe he was laughing at Jack's apologetic-amused-victorious face.

Ianto wasn't easy to psychoanalyze, as much as Jack was half-trying to do so. He was kind, he was open, but there was a reticence behind him. Something that made it seem as though he _didn't_ do this often: smiling, laughing, visiting places just because he _could_ , talking to an interested audience about his passions, hiding under pub tables with friends.

Jack scuffed his shoe against the floor. He had nothing to say; he'd flirted, he'd dropped his pick-up line, he'd joined Ianto under the table. It was Ianto's turn. That, or he'd head back to his hotel and forget all about his interest, because Ianto had clearly not reciprocated.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah?" Jack faced him again. Gone was the laughing, and Ianto had a curious, serious expression on his face.

"How long are you staying?"

"In Cardiff?"

"Yeah."

"However long I want to." That was a benefit of being unemployed and having rich relatives. "Days, weeks, months. However interesting Cardiff turns out to be… if there's anything keeping me here."

"Right." A pause. "Were you serious?"

"About?"

"You know… the—"

"The pick-up line?"

"Yeah."

Part of Jack told him to abort mission. He was too far in, too invested, what if Ianto turned out to be disgusted, disinterested? He nodded. "Yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

Ianto had never been with a man before. It wasn't something that could be hidden, and not something that _should_ be hidden, and Jack saw nothing wrong with being someone's first. He was honored, if anything, and though Ianto was inexperienced, he was open-minded and comfortable, and seemed to have no problem with his obvious attraction to Jack.

Jack wasn't one to blow his own horn, but he was sure that Ianto had enjoyed himself, and was now happily asleep beside him. Jack threw an arm over the Welshman's chest, murmured a "Goodnight," and closed his eyes.

.oOo.

There was nothing smart about what they'd done the previous night. They'd used protection, of course, but what about their emotions? Jack knew for a fact that he liked Ianto as more than a one-night stand, as a long-term friend, even, but he couldn't say the same for the other man.

Jack closed his eyes and groaned quietly. He hated the Morning After. Even without the stigma around it, it was horrible. Jack was a monster without his first cup of coffee, and there was no good way to get to the coffee on a Morning After.

It was just _so_ awkward.

And _this_ was the reason Jack was still in bed. He'd opened his eyes for just a few moments, and so knew it to be sometime around half-past ten.

He hadn't looked at Ianto yet. When they'd fallen asleep, Jack's arm had been around him, but they'd changed positions in the middle of the night, and now Jack was comfortably tucked into Ianto's chest.

It was nice, but he just wished there was some way to avoid the awkwardness that would follow. (Would Ianto hate him?)

Jack dared to turn his head. He wanted to see if Ianto was asleep and plan his course of action, but instead was faced with two blue eyes studying him just as intently as he was them.

"Good morning." Ianto's voice was deep from sleep, and had that happy note to it that indicated an incredible shag the night before. The Welsh vowels were beautifully enunciated, and though he was sleep-ruffled and probably not completely coherent, he—in Jack's wholly unbiased opinion—still looked good enough to eat.

Jack turned around in his arms and looked admiringly at him, drawing a short laugh from Ianto. "Good morning," he replied.

Again, Jack found himself in an awkward situation. It was true that no situation was awkward until it was made so, but there was something inherently uncomfortable about _good mornings_ on Mornings After. There was just no way to go from there! They'd talked themselves into a corner, and unless he wanted the silence to drag on, he had to do something.

 _Had fun?_ he wanted to say. It probably wasn't a good conversation starter, but it was better than nothing. Jack took a deep breath and tried for a sincere but flirtatious smile. "Had fun?"

Ianto laughed again, then ducked his head. "Yeah."

"That's good." Jack tilted his head up to meet Ianto's lips, and they shared a slow kiss, moving until they found a more comfortable position—it would probably be easier to leave after, from this position, but Jack tried not to think about that.

Ianto held onto his hips as Jack rolled over onto him and continued kissing. They paused for a second to breathe, and Jack kept kissing Ianto's neck and chest as Ianto asked, "And did _you_? Have fun, I mean."

"Oh, yeah." Jack nuzzled into his shoulder. Ianto said something else—maybe _I'm glad_ or _That's good_ or _That's nice_ or _Please keep doing that_ —but what he loved was the way Ianto's voice—still incredibly Welsh—rumbled into his chest.

It was another hour before they got out of bed, and by that time, any degree of awkwardness was gone. Jack, of course, had had non-awkward one-night stands—not that Ianto was going to be a one-night stand—but they were rare. Even with Lucia there's been a smidge of discomfort first thing in the morning.

They ended up taking quick but separate showers, Jack first and Ianto second, before getting dressed. By the time they were both presentable, it was past midday, and the hotel had stopped serving breakfast and room service didn't extend to lunch.

Jack lounged in one of the suite's plush armchairs as he waited for Ianto to come out, and when he did, Jack's jaw almost hit the floor.

Ianto was wearing the same clothes as the previous day, but washed and dressed, he looked just as pristine as before, and only he and Jack knew of the debauchery they'd indulged in.

Jack looked his new friend over and sent him a salacious wink. "Do you have any plans today?"

Ianto shook his head. "Not unless you count sitting in the office."

"So how do you feel about breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Ianto looked at the clock. "More like a late lunch."

Jack rolled his eyes. "How do you feel about a late lunch, then?"

Ianto thought for a moment. He grinned at Jack, just as he'd done the previous day: pleased, surprised, excited. "I'd like that."

"Me, too." Jack braced himself. He knew he had issues. He could be demanding and overly energetic, he had a flair for the needlessly dramatic, and he had such mixed feelings about relationships, he couldn't keep track of them. And yet perhaps his worst quality was his only addiction. "I just need to make coffee first."

Ianto got an alarmed look on his face. "Are you any good?"

 _Well, that was an odd question_. Jack had expected something along the lines of _Can't you have coffee at breakfast?_ and now found himself once again in an odd position. Still, it was always—some of the time—better to tell the truth. "Not really."

Ianto looked determined. "Then allow me, please. I'm assuming you've only got hotel accommodations?"

"Yeah."

Ianto nodded, probably to himself, and went over to the small coffee machine next to the TV. He was more confident than Jack had seen him yet, except maybe when he was talking about his country's history. Had he somehow stumbled onto another one of Ianto's passions? If so, he was very glad, because there were very few things Jack liked more than coffee (and very few times he'd had _amazing_ coffee). He only hoped that Ianto would be as good as he seemed to think he was.

Jack watched Ianto make the coffee. At the machine, he looked completely in his element, and soon Jack smelled the unmistakable aroma of coffee wafting over. With a self-satisfied smile, Ianto handed him a cup of hot coffee, holding another one for himself.

Jack didn't exactly call himself a coffee connoisseur. He knew a good cup from a bad one, and had his set preferences, but couldn't make it to save his life. He watched the way Ianto's slim fingers held his cup, how he blew at the coffee over the lip of the cup, and how he took a small sniff of it.

He wasted no more time and took a long sip.

Ianto's coffee wasn't as good as he seemed to think it was. It was better. Jack had never before met anyone who could make hotel coffee palatable, let alone _good_. Sure, it didn't taste amazing, but it showed that if Ianto had access to better materials, be would be able to work magic.

Ianto took a sip of his own coffee. "Well?"

"It's incredible," Jack breathed. "Really, it is. Ianto, I'm going to have you making me coffee _so_ many times." _Assuming, of course, that you'll want to stick around for that._

Ianto gave him a surprised look, but nodded. "Alright."

"Good."

They continued standing together, in the middle of the hotel suite in front of a probably-broken TV and drinking cheap coffee from cheap cups. Somehow, Ianto had correctly guessed the way Jack took his coffee, and from what Jack could tell, he shared the preference.

A few minutes—not fast or slow, just there—passed before they finished drinking, and Jack plucked the cup from Ianto's hands and put it on a cabinet next to his.

He clapped his hands together. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Ianto grabbed his suit jacket and followed him out of the room. The door closed behind them and they made their way to the elevators. "So where are you taking me?"

Jack's hand paused on the way to the elevator call button. "I don't know."

Ianto snorted. "I take it I'm recommending the venue based on my local knowledge?"

Jack nodded empathically. "I love your local knowledge."


	4. Chapter 4

Ianto's local knowledge took them out of the hotel to a small cafe about half an hour away.

They talked as they walked, Jack asking questions and Ianto answering them, and Jack learned about both the city and his companion. He learned that Ianto had spent his entire life in Wales, save for several years in London with his girlfriend—she was now out of the picture and Ianto was unattached (other than to Jack himself, and he wasn't sure if it counted).

He learned that Ianto was passionate about history because it was concrete but could always be re-interpreted, and that he had studied it at university. He learned that Ianto worked at the tourist office but researched ancient history in his free time, and that he liked pizza and fish and chips.

He told, in turn, that he liked steak and ice-cream—not at the same time—and that he liked old movies. He talked about some of the places he'd visited and the ones he'd liked most, and the ones he thought Ianto would be interested in.

The time passed quickly, and they soon found themselves in front of the cafe.

If there was one thing Jack liked about big cities, it was that there was never a shortage of food or of places that sold it. Lunchtime being more or less over, the cafe wasn't crowded and they easily found a small table near a window.

He looked around, seeing several plush armchairs and a group of three people at a table about twenty feet away. Ianto was at the counter, waiting for their food, so Jack had no one to talk to. He alternated looking out the window at the passing people and at the people inside the cafe.

He sat alone, waiting for Ianto to come with their orders, and thought. Serious thoughts, about the future and what else he wanted to visit, floated in and out, of course, but for once, he completely ignored them. There was only so much time a man could spend panicking about whether or not he was going to grow old alone, and when faced with such a view… well, Jack would much rather stare at Ianto Jones's beautiful behind than contemplate his future.

Ianto sat down in front of him. "I know you were staring."

"Why shouldn't I?" Jack asked innocently, his eyes wide, taking his food and drink. "If you don't remember, just an hour ago—"

"I remember."

"Good."

"You're ridiculous."

That was a good sign. If Ianto could be exasperated with him but still be courteous and, well, flirty, then Jack knew they were still on good terms.

He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he wasn't worried. In his experience, many men who had been "straight"—like Ianto had no doubt labelled himself before meeting Jack—often went back to that label in denial. It seemed like Ianto was taking everything in stride, but maybe that was just his nature. He seemed meticulous and orderly, but not lifeless.

Jack knew all too well that Ianto was enthusiastic and sociable. At least, with him. He hadn't known the young man long enough to know whether or not he was naturally open, but everything he'd observed so far told him that Ianto was a curious mix between closed-off and blindingly alive.

"What are you thinking about?" Ianto said.

"Huh?"

"What are you thinking about?" he repeated. "You just… went quiet."

"Oh, nothing." Jack winked. "Admiring the view."

"I don't think the street's that—oh."

Jack snickered into his muffin. "You're cute."

He watched Ianto play with his croissant, and took a sip of his coffee. It was Jack's second cup of the day, this one for pure pleasure. Across from him, Ianto's coffee was still untouched.

Jack wondered what Ianto was thinking. It was obvious that he _was_ thinking: he'd gone quiet and had a curious expression on his face. Jack slowly ate his muffin as Ianto played with the croissant, and waited for him to say something; he was obviously preparing to.

"Jack?" Ianto said. He waited for Jack to face him before opening his mouth again. "What are—what is th—where do you want to see next?"

That had obviously not been what Ianto wanted to say, but Jack wouldn't push. _What is this_? It was a very good question—if it had been what Ianto had wanted to ask—but it was one Jack had no answer to. They were good friends, sure, even after only two days of knowing each other. They'd had sex and Jack _did not_ want it to stay as a one-night stand, because those were _never_ emotionally fun.

From the way Ianto was being nice to him, Jack supposed that he didn't want their tryst to be a one-off, either. That was reassuring, at any rate, but Jack was… what? Unwilling? Apprehensive? Scared?

Yes, yes, and yes.

He didn't have a good history with relationships, being on both the innocent and evil side of hurt and breakups. He didn't want to hurt or to _be_ hurt, but he couldn't guarantee any sort of security. Besides, he and Ianto had only just met. As much fun as they'd had the previous night, it had been one of Jack's least thought-through decisions, and he was the man who had thought for a single day about joining the RAF.

He didn't want to submit himself for something he wasn't sure he was ready for, but he didn't want to run away from something that could be good. He didn't want any more problems to arise, to hurt Ianto or himself. He was terrified: of love, of commitment, of the absence of both of those.

Jack, the romantic in denial, flashed Ianto a reassuring smile. "Well, I was thinking that you could keep showing me around? If… if you want to, that is."

"I'd like to." Ianto smiled. Jack hoped that it wasn't forced. "Do you have any ideas of where you want to go, or…"

"Not a clue."

"Right." He nodded. "I suppose I'll be doing all the work again?"

"I'm afraid so, yes." Jack laughed, and Ianto joined him. It was a gorgeous sound.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack liked Wales. He'd been there for only five days, but what he'd seen so far only made him want to stay for longer. Not forever—Jack doubted he could ever be able to _sta_ yanywhere—but for a while. The city was beautiful, not like the old villages he'd been in, but in a bright, happy, modern way. The people he encountered were nice, Ianto most of all.

The young Welshman had spent the past five days showing him around. He was knowledgeable and friendly, and didn't mind Jack's enthusiasm. He'd taken Jack around museums and the city itself, showing him the personal and official attractions.

Jack had never felt so connected to a place. He'd loved the houses he'd moved between—one in the States, one near London—when he'd been little, and he'd loved Italy while he'd been with Lucia. He loved the atmosphere of faraway jungles and the air of Paris. Jack wasn't a picky man.

He'd picked Cardiff and Cardiff it would be, at least until he changed his mind—not that it would happen soon.

After their first breakfast together, Ianto had gone home. Jack remembered being disappointed and thinking, for a moment, _so this is it._ But Ianto had only gone home to change, and they'd agreed to meet in Bute Park after an hour.

And when they had… had Jack been a lesser man, he would have swooned.

As it was, he very nearly had. He'd seen Ianto in his suit the previous day and that morning, but this was completely different. Ianto was wearing tight jeans and a studded belt, but not only that. His dark button-down revealed a necklace and more skin than Jack thought he'd feel comfortable showing, a dark denim jacket completing the ensemble.

Ianto had looked _hot_ , and as much as Jack had loved the suit, he'd instantly fallen in love with this casual—dare he say _seductive_?—look. Ianto had looked down with a grin and a slight blush, and they'd walked around the park before setting off into the city.

This sixth day was the first day that Jack was spending alone. After the past five days of constant companionship, of laughing with Ianto, talking with Ianto, listening to Ianto, walking with Ianto, eating with Ianto—yes, _sleeping_ with Ianto—it was odd to be alone.

But Ianto had to be in the tourist office for the entire day. It was his actual job, after all, and he'd promised that he'd be available later that evening for dinner.

So Jack was left on his own. His overdramatic half was blowing the situation out of proportion—he wouldn't know where to go, he wouldn't have anyone to talk to, he wouldn't get the full experience and history of everywhere he went, he was so, _so_ alone—but rationally, he knew that he couldn't monopolize Ianto's time.

After all, he'd met Ianto less than a week ago, even if he was head over heels in lust with him. There'd been a time in his life—not long ago _at all_ —that Ianto hadn't been a part of. And a chance meeting had changed all of that.

Jack liked him. He really did. He liked Ianto as a friend, he liked Ianto as a lover. Perhaps it was too early to say, but he was incredibly attached to the Welshman.

Years ago, Jack had been in love. He looked up from the soup he was having for lunch and took a thoughtful sip of his juice.

It was so long ago and he'd been so much younger, but he would never forget the feeling. Jack Harkness had been young, Doctor John Smith had been smart and kind, and the Doctor's assistant, Rose, had been beautiful and full of life.

Jack himself hadn't been in a good place. He'd just broken up with John Hart and was short a friend and a bedmate. He'd known John Hart for years, and though their relationship hadn't been the healthiest, Jack, at the time, hadn't known better. He and John Hart had lived together, slept together, and had partaken in daring and dangerous illegal activities together.

John Hart had gotten worse and Jack had gotten better, and at a certain point, Jack had decided that he wanted something _more_. He wanted to be better. And when he'd met the Doctor and his assistant, he'd fallen in love.

It was love at first sight and Jack would never forget the butterflies in his stomach and the fluttering in his chest and the way his heart fell down into his knees and how his legs turned into jelly whenever he was with them.

Plain and simple, the Doctor and his Rose had saved him. They'd saved him, they'd loved him, and Jack had loved them. He'd been _happy_.

Together, they'd gone on various travels and adventures, Jack and Rose running after the Doctor on his various research trips and grants. Day by day, Jack had fallen harder and deeper for them, and had become better, smarter, kinder, and one day he'd woken up all alone in their hotel room.

In the middle of the night, he'd been abandoned. Thrown out with the bath water. Left hanging out to dry. Alone. Left. Unwanted. _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

But the Doctor had changed him too much for him to go back to his old life. A braver, better person than before—albeit with a broken heart he doubted would ever heal—Jack found himself in the RAF. He had a purpose, a way to get back to living.

Though he'd long since gotten over the Doctor and Rose, he often thought about them, sometimes thankful, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes sorrowful. They had made him who he was. John Hart had tried to break him, the Doctor and his Rose had put him back together, the RAF had given him a purpose, his current travels and way of life made him happy.

He wondered where Ianto Jones would fit into his life.

Jack laughed at himself. He was being unnecessarily maudlin, and many years ago, he'd promised himself not to lose himself in sorrow. It was alright to reminisce, he knew, but there was a line between nostalgia and misery, and he was dangerously close to crossing it.

Not that Jack was miserable. He laughed again. He was at an extraordinarily good point in his life. He loved where he was and who he was with. Over the past five days, he'd felt his life turn into a romantic comedy, albeit one with gratuitous amounts of sex.

He laughed again—it was a good day—and stood up from the cafe table he'd sat himself in an hour ago. Without Ianto, he didn't really know where to go, even if Ianto had left him a list. Jack remembered the hours he'd read in the tourist office: _9.00 - 6.30_.

He hoped Ianto wouldn't mind.


	6. Chapter 6

It was midday, and Jack was striding across the Plass. He'd been there every day for the past five days, because the sunrise was beautiful, even if the morning was chilly, and the sunset was breathtaking, even if the amount of tourists was overwhelming.

But he had a purpose; not just sightseeing. Although the sky was uncharacteristically clear and the sun strangely bright, he paid little attention to them, just noticing that their brightness matched his mood. He had a purpose, a mission, a goal: Ianto Jones.

Jack knew that Ianto was in the tourist office, knew where the tourist office was, and made his way down the stairs to the dock.

He hoped he wasn't going to be annoying, but Ianto had told him that working in the tourist office was lonely and boring. For all his worrying, Jack didn't think Ianto would mind.

He spared a minute to watching the sky over the bay. Some seagulls were flying over the water, dipping down and soaring back up, calling to each other and catching fish. The sun was cheerful and even slightly warm. Jack snapped a quick picture and sauntered across the dock to the tourist office.

The _Open_ sign was hanging in the window, the lights were on, the brochures, maps, and postcards were on their shelves. Jack glanced over to the beaded curtain, hoping to see Ianto coming out and greeting him, but was distracted by a light chuckle.

He whirled around to the desk. "Ianto!"

"Hello." He was smiling, a mix of the usual customer service smile and his grin.

Jack grinned back. "Hi."

"Any reason for the visit?" Ianto asked. "I didn't mess up the directions I gave you, did I?"

"No, nothing like that." Jack shook his head for emphasis, happy when Ianto seemed to relax. "Just…"

"What?"

 _Here goes nothing._ "Just got a bit lonely."

Ianto frowned. Was he sad? Apologetic? "I'm working, Jack, I can't—"

"No, not like that." Jack was all too aware of his Lothario reputation, probably due to his flirtatious, devil-may-care attitude, but that was only skin-deep. "I just missed you."

"Oh."

"I don't know anyone else in Wales, and… I was hoping I could just bide my time here?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You want to spend what is probably the only good day Wales will see this year cooped up in a tourist information office that no one visits?"

"No."

"No?"

"I want to spend the only good day Wales will see this year with _you_."

Ianto's eyebrow rose higher. The other eyebrow joined it and they disappeared into his hairline. "Really?"

"Really." Jack scuffed the floor with his shoe. He hoped Ianto didn't notice. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all." Ianto sighed. He looked around as Jack searched for a place to sit. "I'll go make some coffee."

Jack couldn't hide his grin. He'd had Ianto's coffee two times since their first morning together, but both times, it had been the cheap hotel brew. He watched Ianto head behind the beaded curtain. Did he have quality coffee back there?

Could he follow?

Ianto stuck his head out between the curtain. "Come on, then." He turned away again. "If you want."

Jack wasted no time, and almost skipped over to join him.

What he'd thought was a small personal office was actually a large back room. The tourist office itself was neat, but slightly bleak, what with the lack of actual tourists and only Ianto there. But the back room was brightly lit, with shelves on the walls with books and CDs and several tables in the middle of the floor, one of them with a sewing machine on it. There was a desk in one corner and a refrigerator and microwave in another corner.

Ianto was at a complicated coffee machine on one of the tables. He was holding two coffee cups and was moving what looked like fabric to the side.

Jack had expected something small and quaint. The area in front of him was cheerful and lived-in. It looked cared for and highly utilized. Ianto seemed to be right at home, comfortable despite the slight clutter.

"You're staring."

Jack jumped as Ianto laughed. It wasn't the first time that Ianto had snuck up on him, but it was still surprising to hear soft Welsh vowels in his ear—not to mention incredibly erotic.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, it's fine." Ianto was smiling, and went back to the coffee machine. It was several seconds later that he was handing Jack one of the coffee cups. "Careful, it's hot."

"Thanks." Jack watched Ianto carefully blow on his coffee over the lip of the cup; he wasn't anywhere near as careful, and took a long sip.

Ianto laughed when he cried out. Jack glared. He grinned. "I told you it was hot."

"I know." Jack pouted.

Ianto laughed again, and quickly leaned forward to give him a small peck on the lips. He leaned back, looking down. "Sorry."

"No, it's… it's fine." Jack grinned like a fool. While he'd been very receptive to their more acrobatic activities, Ianto hadn't initiated them, at least not physically. Sure, he'd teased Jack and challenged him, but this… this was nice. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all."

Ianto smiled at him over his coffee cup and continued drinking, perching on the table and motioning for Jack to do the same, if he wanted.

Jack gestured to their surroundings. "What is all this?"

"It's my office." Ianto took another sip of his coffee. "Tourist office board didn't have enough money to make this room part of the office, but they couldn't give it to anyone else since it's in the back, so they let me convert it however I wanted to, so long as I paid for it and actually came to work, no matter how boring it would be."

"That's… kind of cool, actually." Jack chuckled. "You can have whatever you want here. Books, movies, kitchen… why a sewing machine?"

"Oh, that…" Ianto waved a dismissive hand. "Granddad was a tailor. Dad, too, for a while. Just a—well, a family activity, if you will. I make the occasional suit sometimes. For fun, you know? It's relaxing, and I like the challenge. Just something I've done for a while, but there's not enough room at my flat to spread out the fabric."

"The suit you're wearing, did you make it?" Jack said.

Ianto fingered one of the sleeves. "Yeah."

Jack hadn't been expecting that. _Note: Ianto Jones is a jack of all trades._ "That's incredible." He ran an appreciative eye down Ianto's body, and moved one of his hands to brush over the fabric. "You do that often?"

Ianto shrugged. "Sometimes."

"It's incredible," Jack said again. Had he not known that the suit was homemade, he wouldn't have thought it.

Ianto glanced down, clearly flattered. "Thank you."

"Really." Jack leaned forward and caught his mouth in a quick but ferocious kiss. "It's amazing."

"I'd never have pegged you for a suit aficionado," Ianto said. "You seem to have a more… well, I'll say 'unique' style. Not in a bad way, of course. God, I'm screwing this up, aren't I?" He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "All this time I've seen you, you've stuck to button-downs and khakis."

"And you to suits." Jack didn't mind Ianto's perceived awkwardness at all; he was cute when he was flustered, even if he was trying to control himself. "But I've seen you in jeans and leathers, too."

"That's true." He gave another rueful laugh. "I'm sorry."

"You _are_ right, though," Jack conceded. "I usually stick to business-casual. But I've had my share of suits. You should see my dinner one."

Had Jack not known better, he would have thought Ianto's eyes glazed over. As it was, he knew Ianto to be a sensible—if devious—man, so it was probably just his imagination.

They finished their coffee in silence, and Jack was saved from a potentially awkward conversation starter—something along the lines of _I'm great_ out _of a suit, too, though_ —by the ringing of a bell. Ianto muttered something— _that's a customer_ or _no one used to come in here_ or _I'll be right back, make yourself at home_ —and went out through the curtain.

Jack tried not to listen, not because he wasn't interested but because it wasn't his place, but he caught snippets of the conversation, enough to know that it wasn't a customer. _"Gwen!" "Hi… Sweetheart… you?" "You're… with news… you?" "… sorry."_

He couldn't make heads or tails of it, and he didn't try to. He wanted to, of course, because Ianto's words were short and clipped, and "Gwen"'s apologetic. And yet, somehow, Jack kept himself from listening further. It was Ianto's business, not his, and who was he to wonder who this "Gwen" was?


	7. Chapter 7

Jack stayed in the tourist office with Ianto for the rest of the day. They talked and drank more coffee, and by the time the clock hit half past six, Jack was sure of three things: Ianto's accent was orgasmic, Ianto's coffee was orgasmic, and quickies in Ianto's back office were really, really fun.

He waited for Ianto to close the office, and walked along the dock with him, not saying anything. Memories of Ianto's earlier conversation with "Gwen" were still bugging him, but Jack told himself that it wasn't any of his business. It wasn't, really, and Ianto either would or wouldn't tell him, and Jack would deal with that.

It wasn't like he and Ianto were dating, after all. They'd met less than a week ago, even if they'd _clicked_ , and sleeping together wasn't the same thing as being in a relationship, although they were friends.

There was a good reason Jack stayed away from relationships, and it wasn't because of his downfall with John, his abandonment by the Doctor and Rose, his painful almost-marriage to Lucia.

He had the common sense not to torture himself, and part of that meant that he had no right to question Ianto about "Gwen". Jack shook his head to himself, took a deep breath of the bay breeze, and turned to Ianto.

"So where's a good place to get dinner?"

.oOo.

They ended up in a pub, like they had for the past five nights. Each night a different one, at Jack's insistence to get to know the city, and Ianto was showing himself to have an unvaried taste. None of the pubs were crowded, but none were empty. The employees were nice but not nosy. There was a pool table or two in one of the corners, and a dart board on one of the walls.

Tonight's pub was quiet, but large and airy. The people didn't seem to be interested in anyone's business but their own, so while most of the tables were filled, the atmosphere was open and welcoming, not overbearing.

On his travels, Jack had eaten in upscale restaurants and fast-food chains. He'd utilized hotel restaurants and room service. He'd been in diners and cafes. Coffee shops, chocolatiers, chains and family restaurants, pubs, bars, clubs. He'd hunted and fished, and eaten strange plants in the middle of a jungle.

And now he was in a pub, sitting across from a beautiful man called Ianto. Ianto was telling him about this particular establishment's personal history, and Jack was reminded of the night they'd first slept together.

He couldn't stop thinking about it and wondered if Ianto was just as focused on that part of their relationship. As he had been doing for the past five days, Ianto was taking everything in stride. Jack wanted to know what Ianto would look like out of his element. He was ridiculously composed all of the time—except for in bed, where he was passionate and eager—and Jack was beginning to wonder if anything was capable of fazing him.

Again, Jack was drawn out of his thoughts by Ianto clearing his throat. "I don't have to tell you if you're not interested."

"Sorry." Jack grinned lopsidedly. "I _do_ listen, I swear. Just got caught up wool-gathering."

"You'll tell me if you get bored, though, right?"

"Of course I will," Jack was quick to assure him. "And even if I do, your voice is always enough to keep me listening."

A raised eyebrow. "My voice?"

"It's the Welsh vowels," he said plainly.

Ianto laughed. "I don't know whether to be flattered or… well, I don't know what."

"Be flattered," Jack offered.

"I think I will." Ianto took a long sip of his beer. He still looked slightly incredulous, but his surprise was amused, not disgusted. He didn't say anything else.

Jack tapped his fingers on the table in an attempt to fill up the silence. Was it his turn to speak? It had to have been, since Ianto had just talked, but Jack didn't know what to say. He'd flirted and complimented, but he didn't want to go too far. Had he missed some odd Welsh etiquette?

Jack cleared his throat. "I going up for a drink. You want another?"

Ianto shook his head, so Jack stood up and headed to the bar. He wasn't getting a refill for his own beer, because he rarely—if ever—had more than one drink—if that—and stuck to water for the majority of the evening. As he waited for the barman to fill him a new glass, Jack looked back at Ianto.

Thought he couldn't see Ianto's face, Jack could see that Ianto wasn't upset. Perhaps irrationally, Jack was still afraid that Ianto would come to his senses and leave. After all, five days wasn't enough to become close friends, let alone regular lovers. What they had—what _did_ they have?—was more of a one-night stand than anything; they just didn't know each other more than that.

He sighed and turned around to head back to the table. A group of about 15 people had just walked in, storming around the bar and obstructing his path and view. When the throng dissipated and Jack was able to make it back to his and Ianto's table, he saw that Ianto was on the phone.

Though he tried again not to eavesdrop and even backed up a few steps, Jack heard several words and his earlier worry about his relationship with Ianto didn't dissipate.

" _Gwen!... yes… Worried… a bit… no nothing. Really?.. Thank you… yeah, actually…"_

And not even a minute later, Ianto was closing his phone and turning around to see Jack approaching. He didn't look worried or guilty—not that he had anything to be guilty of, but Jack _worried_ , sometimes, despite his devil-may-care approach to life—and welcomed Jack with a smile.

Jack sat down, not saying anything about the phone call, staring questioningly when Ianto looked expectantly at him. "What?"

"You forgot your water." Ianto chuckled.

"Oh." He stood up with a laugh. "I'll go get that, then."

"Yeah."

Jack stood up and left, getting to the bar and standing behind two young men from the newly-arrived group. They were talking and joking, discussing the tourists they'd encountered that day in a cafe and who they fancied out of their group of friends.

Jack waited and half-listened to them. It wasn't interesting, but it was something to focus on. But when the men began discussing the latest rugby match, Jack tuned out.

Reluctantly but almost automatically, Jack thought back to the "Gwen" person Ianto had talked to in the tourist office. He'd talked to her on the phone several minutes ago, too. Were they friends? Lovers? Was she the wife he was hiding from Jack?

Alright, so it was probably not the latter, but Jack was curious!

And asking Ianto about it was definitely out of the question. It would be weird and invasive, and definitely _not_ a part of whatever relationship they had.

"Sir!"

Jack turned around with a grimace to face the annoyed barman. He wasn't usually so distracted, and he fully blamed Ianto for it. When he was _with_ Ianto, Jack stared at his eyes and lips. When he _wasn't_ with Ianto, he thought about what they'd done together and what they would do together (unless Ianto proved him wrong and ran for the hills).

Jack needed to get focused, and fast.


	8. Chapter 8

He wasn't focused three days later. He wasn't focused four days later.

Five days later, Jack realized he was fully whipped. Ianto's lips, Ianto's eyes; Ianto in suits, Ianto in casual clothes, Ianto in no clothes at all; Ianto talking, Ianto smiling, Ianto rolling his eyes; Ianto.

Ianto, Ianto, Ianto.

It wasn't even that Jack was in love. He wasn't. He'd been in love and he knew what it was, what it felt like. He was in lust and he loved Ianto's friendship, but—and he was actually being honest with himself—that wasn't love.

He didn't need Ianto. He didn't want Ianto as anything other than a friend or a lover—and he was fantastic as both—even if he _did_ want to be a large part of Ianto's life.

He was jealous like that. Possessive.

He'd never tell Ianto to do anything—or anyone else—but he loved having Ianto all to himself.

It had been ten days since he had met Ianto, and they'd spent every evening together. They'd gone home together each evening, as well, spending the night in Jack's hotel room. Ianto spent his day in the office, now, and Jack took to spending time there with him, floating in and out between various excursions.

He found he didn't explore that much without Ianto; it wasn't interesting or fulfilling. He'd wait until the weekend, when Ianto worked shorter hours, to do the complicated stuff.

"Gwen" hadn't been in contact with Ianto since, as far as Jack knew, and he tried not to think too deeply about that, if only to maintain a sense of integrity.

But he liked spending time with Ianto, so focused on the good side of things.

Despite a mediocre base in psychology, Jack was observant enough to know that Ianto was happy. Well, maybe "happy" wasn't the correct word, but Ianto certainly seemed like he was having fun. Like before, Jack thought him to be reserved, but more observation confirmed what he'd already thought: Ianto Jones, on a regular basis, didn't smile or laugh or joke.

Even with Jack, he had moments of quiet and almost of sadness. Like he didn't know what to do or suddenly got a sour taste in his mouth. Jack never knew _why_ he became like that, but, more importantly, he didn't know if he could ask—or help.

It was a Saturday, and Ianto only had to stay until three. Jack had come an hour ago, sitting in chair that, over the past five days, had become _his_. Ianto was at his desk, writing something in a journal, and Jack was leafing through one of the brochures.

Ianto put down his pen and looked at Jack, head cocked. (Jack knew because he always looked at Ianto.) He waited a moment before saying, "You _can_ go look at all those things, you know. The ones in the pamphlets. You've been flipping through them for _days_. You don't have to sit here with me."

"I know."

"And?"

"And I _want_ to sit here with you, Ianto." _You're lonely. I can see that. Please let me help._

"But… why?" He was truly incredulous. It was like he didn't _understand_ Jack's interest in him. "You came here to see the sights, didn't you?"

" _You're_ a sight." Jack grinned; he loved pick-up lines. Sure, they were awful, but they usually worked. Ianto still didn't look convinced, so he turned serious. "I tried to psychoanalyze you when we met, you remember? Yeah? Okay. Well, I did. You're lonely, Ianto. I can see that. And I don't know why—and you don't have to tell me—but I like you and I want to help."

"That—"

"Please let me finish," Jack almost begged. Ianto gave a small nod. "Thank you. I like you, Ianto. You're my _friend_. I liked you from the moment I met you, and only half of that was physical attraction. You're nice and smart and funny."

"Jack—"

"Ianto."

"Sorry."

"I'm spending time with you because I want to spend time with you. I can spend a lifetime exploring Wales, but I've spent a bit over a week exploring _you_ , and I like what I've found." Jack grinned again; he was full of pick-up lines, but something told him that Ianto found them amusing, not annoying, and maybe even flattering. "And if you don't want me shadowing you, just… just tell me. I don't want to be a nuisance, I just like your company."

"That's… wow." Ianto scrubbed a hand over his face. "That was a bit much." He laughed. "Not in a bad way. Just… very intense. Very… yeah, intense."

"Intense?"

"Absolutely." He smiled, too. "Shivers down my spine. Jack… I'm not saying that wasn't nice or flattering, or whatever you were going for, but it… we've known each other for ten days!"

"And?"

"Like I said, it's a bit much. I'm trying, I really am, but it's new to me. You know, having an overenthusiastic half-American tourist visiting me every day. Also going home with said tourist for an evening of acrobatics."

"Do you want me to slow down?"

"I…" Ianto shook his head. He looked like he couldn't voice it, not at that point, but he didn't seem to want Jack to leave. At least Jack hoped so. With bated breath, Jack watched Ianto sigh. "It's just new. Wales is a beautiful, interesting place, Jack. Not saying that I want you gone, but you should explore it when you can."

"You're forgetting I don't have a schedule."

"Sorry." Ianto visibly relaxed as the charged atmosphere seemed to dissipate. "Not all of us spend our lives adventuring."

"You should try it."

"Yeah." A snort. "I'll lose my job and follow you to Australia."

Jack laughed. Nothing like that would ever happen, and not because he wouldn't want it to. He doubted Ianto would ever leave the safe confines of Cardiff, let alone Wales. Ianto may be friendly and open, but he was still closed off under his smiles. Jack knew he was lucky—seeing Ianto, feeling Ianto.

He liked Ianto. He wanted Ianto to be happy. He felt the same for all his friends, but Ianto was the _here_ and the _now_ , and Jack gave him another encouraging smile.

Ianto returned it.


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you just stay in one hotel?" Ianto asked one Sunday morning.

If Jack decided to count, he would have known how many nights they'd spent together there—not every night, because sometimes Ianto went home at around midnight, but sometimes he stayed—but he wasn't that focused on numbers. As he'd found out, Ianto was the one who was always more focused on the details.

"You're doing that thing again," Ianto said.

"What thing?"

"The thing you do when you're talking to someone and you think of something, so you focus on it and zone out."

"Sorry."

"I'm used to it."

"Sorry." Jack inwardly cringed at himself. "So what did you say?"

"I asked if you just stay in one hotel the whole time you travel," Ianto repeated. "Must get boring."

"Not really." Jack shrugged. "I spend a lot of time exploring, so it's nice to come back to something more familiar to rest. And I don't stay in hotels when I'm in the wild."

Ianto gave a thoughtful hum. "That makes sense."

"I've been known to be rational, you know." Jack laughed. "I have to be, when I'm fending for myself."

A few minutes passed. They usually did, when Jack talked to Ianto. If one conversation topic was exhausted and another not found, they'd discovered an easy silence. He watched as Ianto made coffee—it was morning, and they'd spent the night together—then took his cup when Ianto handed it to him.

Jack took a sip, watched as Ianto blew on his coffee over the top of the cup, and said, "Have you ever wanted to travel?"

Ianto looked at him. "You mean to the Amazon? Or a weekend trip to the Welsh countryside?"

"Either, although I know which one I'd prefer."

"Neither, then."

Jack gaped. "You've _never_ left Cardiff?"

"No, of course I have." Ianto shook his head and laughed. "I did uni in London, you know."

Jack _did_ know, because Ianto had told him earlier, but that was a move, not a trip. "So why 'neither'?"

"Because it's true. I've never travelled, at least not how you think of it. Travelling implies you keep going. Me? I just stop." A strange look passed over his face, and before Jack could question it, Ianto smiled. "I deal with insufferable tourists every day. Do you really think I want to become one of them?"

" _I'm_ a tourist!"

Ianto grinned. "Exactly."

Jack growled and took a step forward.

Ianto's grin widened.

.oOo.

It was past lunchtime when they made it out of the hotel. They went to a cafe down the street, walking almost hand in hand—but not really, because something told Jack that Ianto was way too private for public displays of affection—and Jack was as excited about the company as he was about the new breakfast venue.

Over the past two weeks, Jack had found that Ianto liked cafes that were out of the way but not secluded. They all served fresh baked goods—Ianto had told him that they were his weakness—and most importantly, top notch coffee.

In a wholly unbiased opinion, Jack believed that Ianto made better coffee than any of them, and wasted no time in telling him. With a ridiculously confident grin, Ianto had nodded.

At his very core, Ianto was a juxtaposition. He dressed and talked properly, had his whole life planned out to the detail, and lived a modest but seemingly fulfilling life. But he owned a suspicious amount of tight clothing, was proud of the Welsh lilt in his voice—or at least of the effect it had on Jack—and seemed to have very few qualms about befriending and sleeping with a stranger.

Jack was under no illusions that he himself was easy to deal with. Lovers and friends had told him multiple times that he was impulsive and confusing, and for someone as structured as Ianto Jones, Jack was sure he was insufferable.

Ianto had told him that many times, after all, even if in jest.

One of these days, Jack promised himself, he'd figure Ianto out. In the meantime, they'd have lunch, have an argument about who was paying before deciding to go Dutch, and then go see more sights.

"Ianto?" he asked when they sat down.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever even thought about travelling?" It was a question that had been bugging him since the morning; how could anyone _want_ to stay so static?

Ianto took a thoughtful bite of his croissant. He gave a wry smile. "You're not asking me to run away with you, are you?"

Deflection, then. _Fine_. "Nah, just curious."

"Then, no." Ianto shook his head. "Must be boring to you. Staying in the same place, doing the same things, seeing the same people."

"No, of course not." A pause, and Jack gave a conceding shrug. "Well, yeah… I mean… There's so much out there. So much to see. I've tried to climb the Andes! Not to be cliché, but I saw the pyramids! You—"

"Went camping. Once." Ianto laughed. "I get it. I do."

"I don't. Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"Not even a bit? Not when you were little?" When Ianto didn't look offended, Jack continued. "Because I wanted to be an astronaut. See the world, see the stars… and most boys agreed with me. Not you?"

"Nope." Ianto leaned over the table as if he wanted to share a secret. "I wanted to be James Bond."

"Really?" he'd known that Ianto had an affinity for the spy, but had never thought that it went beyond the films. He nodded in approval. "Beautiful man in a suit. I like it."

Ianto glanced down. _Was that regret?_ "Yeah, well… I'm a tourist office manager. Not exactly 007 material."

"At the risk of sounding cliché again, you can do anything you put your mind to." Jack chuckled at the dubious look on Ianto's face. "Although you might be right."

Ianto nodded. "Becoming a spy is a bit different than opening a shop or trying to get published, yes. But Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about me."

Jack supposed Ianto's words were meant to be reassuring, but they sounded bleak, even with

Ianto's light tone. Still, Jack nodded; there was only so much he could do, and it wouldn't be anything good to alienate Ianto when he so desperately wanted to help him—even if he had no idea what he wanted to help Ianto _with_ , because there were so many outward signs of there being anything wrong.

"Jack?" Ianto, again. He looked concerned, so Jack supposed he must have zoned out. "Jack, are you alright?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "Just got lost in your eyes."

"...that was horrible."


	10. Chapter 10

It took a solid week, but Jack managed to convince Ianto to take him out of the city. "Take a weekend," he'd said; the Welsh countryside was supposed to be the most beautiful thing there, second only to Ianto.

Laughing, Ianto had agreed, but only _if you stop with the pick-up lines._ They planned the trip together, and the only thing Ianto didn't budge on was that they stay in an accredited bed and breakfast. Ianto'd said: "It's part of the country charm," but Jack didn't quite believe him.

But a victory was a victory, and he really _did_ want to see the famed mountains and meadows.

So far, he'd stuck to the city. It must have been fine for Ianto, who's spent his whole life in cities, but Jack liked the country almost as much as he liked the city. But unlike the city, it evened out his personality and offered a mellow atmosphere and serene sights.

Where Ianto was tense and quiet, Jack was excited. Ianto hadn't let Jack drive them out of the city, but had agreed to drive the rented SUV because it was easier on the roads.

As Jack looked at his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he began to feel bad. Ianto had obviously not wanted to come. He was stressed and uncomfortable. Jack's excitement waned.

"Ianto?" he said cautiously.

"Yeah?"

Jack tried not to insult his companion's pride, but the last thing he wanted was for Ianto to be

unhappy. "Wanna go back?"

"What?"

"Let's turn back. If you want to." Jack watched him cautiously. "Ianto?"

He took a deep breath. "Why?"

"'Why'?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why turn back?"

"If you want to." Though Jack didn't know why Ianto was so uncomfortable, it was clear that he was. "Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"You alright?"

Ianto let out another deep breath. "Yeah."

"Can I… can I ask why?" Jack swallowed. "I mean… why do you hate it here?"

"I don't—"

"You're holding the wheel so tight, I think it's going to break!" He put a tentative hand on Ianto's arm. "I've never seen you so tense. I told you before that worry about you. And I'm trying not to, but don't think I'm not going to try to psychoanalyze you again."

Ianto laughed. He continued laughing as he pulled over the car. And though the tension didn't disappear from his shoulders, he looked much lighter. When he stopped laughing and faced Jack, he was serious, but smiling. "Cannibals."

"'Cannibals'?"

"Yup."

"Cannibals?"

He shook his head. "It's stupid, Jack."

"Not if it's scaring you, it isn't."

"Alright." He didn't look like he believed it, but he continued. "When I was little, my parents told me that there were monsters in the streets. So I didn't run off, you know? And I translated that to mean that there were monsters everywhere that wasn't home. The countryside seemed scary and it _definitely_ wasn't home, so…"

Jack smiled lightly. "So you make up cannibals to keep yourself away?"

"No, of course not. It was just monsters at first. Banshees, vampires, ghosts, werewolves. But a few years ago, police caught up on a trail of missing persons. By and by, they were traced to a remote village… in the country."

"You mean?.."

"Cannibals," Ianto confirmed.

"Oh, god." Jack shivered. People dealt with things like that differently, and if Ianto had decided to never see the wild, Jack wasn't sure if he could judge him.

Ianto laughed again. "I did say it was stupid. But it just… happened."

"No, it's not stupid." Jack have his arm a reassuring squeeze. "And it's good you're out here again. It's… thank you for letting me take you out here."

Ianto glanced out the window before looking back at Jack, grinned, and pulled back onto the road.

.oOo.

It was sometime before dinner but after lunch when they approached a town. It was small enough to be quaint and appealing, but large enough to be considered civilization. Ianto parked the car next to the bed and breakfast they had picked.

"I'm sorry it's not as secluded as you wanted," he said.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Who said I wanted something secluded?"

"You did." Ianto stared at him. "You wanted the country. Hills and dales, the lot."

"And you told me we can get to the wilderness from here." Jack smiled. "And that's a good idea. We can see the sights and still have all the comforts of home."

Ianto's lips twitched. He looked away, smiling, and Jack, just about to ask why, heard a quiet "Thank you."

On the B&B's website, they'd read about vacancy, cost, and menu. Ianto had baulked when he found out they couldn't register online—"I like to be organized," he'd said as Jack laughed—and had called ahead to let the owner know they were coming.

They left their bags in the SUV and walked around the town, noting restaurants and stores, as well as a mechanic and gas station. After about twenty minutes, they had run out of things to explore and went back to the B&B.

Ianto led the way into the old-fashioned building. The inside was brightly lit and inviting. It would have been cozy in the winter, but it boasted open windows and an air conditioner in the summer weather. While Cardiff had been cloudy for most of his visit, the country was more open.

Like Ianto, Jack was a city person at heart. But he loved nature and the wild, and he was excited to share part of his passion with Ianto, who was reluctant but clearly trying.

A tug on his sleeve made Jack stop staring at the building and walk forward to the registration desk with Ianto.

A woman, past middle-age but not old, smiled at them. "Hello, welcome to the Country Bed and Breakfast, how can I help you?"

"Hello," Ianto replied, and Jack was struck by the difference of his accent from the woman's. "I called ahead yesterday, your website said we had to register on-site."

"Of course." She flipped through a notebook. "What name?"

"Jones."

"Sir—"

"Ianto Jones." He paused when she flipped a few more pages. "I called at—"

"Two people, sir?"

"Yes." Ianto gestured towards Jack.

"Hi." Jack waved.

"American?" the woman asked.

"Tourist," Ianto clarified; Jack tried not to be offended.

"Coming to see the mountains?" the woman asked.

Jack nodded. "And everything else. The countryside is beautiful."

"That it is," she agreed. She typed on the computer. "So that's two roo—oh."

"Yes?"

"We've so much guests. I'm afraid there's only one room available." She looked at Jack, then

back at Ianto. "I'm sorry."

"It's no problem."

"It's just a single bed, sirs." She looked between them again.

It was just an administrative problem, but Jack felt like it was divine intervention; they stupidly hadn't discussed rooming arrangements. Jack smiled. "That's no problem."

She nodded and turned around, then gave them each a key. "Down the corridor, up the stairs, and to the right. Room 207. And I'm sorry again."

Ianto thanked her and Jack followed him back to the car. He supposed now was as good a time as any to address the issue of a single bed, because despite the fact that their affair was very active, it was very private. They didn't hold hands, let alone exchange kisses in public. Even overt teasing and flirting was kept to a minimum when they weren't completely alone. Sharing a room—and a bed—in a bed and breakfast… it was public. It was almost intimate.

Still, the B&B was miles from Cardiff, and the chance of them coming back or anyone in their lives finding out was small.

And if Ianto wasn't going to press the subject, Jack wasn't, either—for safety's sake.


	11. Chapter 11

The room was small and with a single bed, just as they'd been promised. It was simple, but decorated with knick-knacks and doilies. Two windows looked out onto the meadows beyond the town, and the single window in the bathroom was frosted over and only provided a bit of light.

The curtains on the main windows were drawn back, and Jack watched as Ianto put his overnight bag down and went over to it to look outside.

The afternoon sun shone through the window and onto his pale face; as Jack approached him, he marveled at the delicate shadows of Ianto's eyelashes on his cheeks.

"D'you like it?" he asked softly, putting an arm around Ianto's waist.

Ianto ran his gaze over the countryside beyond the town thoughtfully. "Yeah."

Jack hummed an affirmative. He didn't know what he was replying to, or if he was seconding Ianto's statement. It was either or both, Jack decided. And, not for the first time, he noticed that Ianto was breathtakingly gorgeous.

"Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

Jack tugged on his waist, and when Ianto tripped sideways into his arms, kissed him to within an inch of his life.

Ianto caught his breath and stepped back, surprised but also… clearly unsettled. He cleared his throat. "What was that for?"

Jack shrugged. "Just felt like it." When Ianto didn't respond, he began to feel awkward. "I didn't…I didn't make you feel… I don't know… uncomfortable or anything? Ianto?"

"No." Almost hesitantly, Ianto put his hands back on Jack's shoulders. "Just surprised me, is all. Was nice, though."

Jack smiled. "Yeah, it was. Ianto?"

"Hmm?"

"Come 'ere."

He tugged Ianto back towards him and kissed him again. And again. And again. And again, and by the time they headed downstairs, it was dinnertime.

Ianto was dressed similarly to Jack, in business-casual attire: khaki trousers and a button-down shirt. His top button was undone—at Jack's insistence—and though Jack desperately wanted to ravish him _right there, right now_ , he was content to just sit and admire his friend.

Over the next two days, Jack knew, he would get to know the causal Ianto Jones very well. He knew for a fact that Ianto hadn't brought a single suit with him; not even a tie or a waistcoat. He had comfortable jeans and casual shirts, and they didn't resemble the usual slightly risqué clothing Jack was used to in the evenings.

He was excited.

Jack was a sensual person. He was incredibly tactile and more sexual than the average man, but if he found someone incredible enough, even sex didn't matter.

And as Ianto began looking through the menu he'd just been given, it hit Jack.

 _He liked Ianto Jones_.

"So what are you having?" Ianto asked obliviously, successfully drawing Jack out of the surprising thoughts.

He shrugged and opened his menu. "I don't kn—Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"It's all in Welsh." He pretended to pout as Ianto rolled his eyes. "Well, I can't read it!"

Ianto nodded. "A lot of people can't read it."

"Really?" Jack usually researched the places he went to, but he'd expected his friends to be his tour guides. With Ianto's presence—since Ianto was an actual Welshman—Jack had completely forgotten to look anything up. He was able to answer most of Jack's questions, and Jack's realization of his ignorance humbled him. He grimaced. "I thought you all spoke Welsh."

"Nope." He shook his head. "Most people in the cities don't; I'm an exception."

Jack noticed the sheepish pride and grinned. "Well, you _are_ brilliant."

Ianto looked down at his menu. "Thanks."

Jack tried again to decipher it. Ten seconds of perusing revealed that there was no correlation between written Welsh and written English, even if the numerous consonants were enticing. He sighed. "Ianto?"

"Hmm?"

"What should I get?"

"How traditional do you want your dinner?"

"Uh…"

Ianto laughed and took pity on him. "In that case, I'd say you should get the—"

And as Ianto identified the dishes in Welsh, the information went straight to Jack's cock and his heart did a funny little jig.

He forced his head out of the clouds and swallowed hard. "And what would that be in English?"

Ianto said the names in Welsh again. "You mean those?"

Jack glared. Ianto was smirking; he knew exactly what effect his voice was having. He discreetly adjusted his trousers and bit out, "Yes, please."

"Would it be the"—delicious Welsh words that Jack could never hope to understand—"that you want me to translate, or the"—more Welsh, damn him. He smiled courteously at a fuming Jack.

Jack leaned across the table and beckoned Ianto closer. He growled. "If you keep talking like that, we're not going to stay long enough to get the food, and you're going to have to deal with granola bars in bed."

Ianto laughed. "I'll keep that in mind, Jack."

And he had deepened his accent, enunciating and wrapping his gorgeous lips around Jack's name. Bastard.

Jack ended up getting a lamb dish, following Ianto's example. He wasn't able to focus for at least half of the meal, partly because of his earlier realization and partly because Ianto was doing his best to distract him.

Jack now understood why Ianto never went out into the country: there was something in the air that unleashed his inner imp.

Of course, that wasn't true. But it certainly explained Ianto's evening behavior. And as frustrated as Jack was, he was loving it.

.oOo.

Jack was good for his word after dinner, and they went to bed sated. Ianto had fallen asleep first, and Jack was making his way back from the bathroom.

He was even too tired to dwell on his epiphany, probably for the best; he became focused and withdrawn when he was brooding.

Quietly, he let himself into bed next to Ianto, turning off the lamp on the bedside table and drawing the covers over them.

For a few moments before he let himself be lulled to sleep, Jack watched Ianto. In the soft glow of the moon from the still-open window, the young man was obviously exhausted, both from the vigorous _goodnight_ sex and from his earlier worrying. In sleep, he was relaxed.

And yes, it was ridiculous and cliché, but it was true. In sleep, unless they were having nightmares, people were relaxed and young. They were peaceful and Jack hated disturbing anyone who was asleep. If he was being honest, he hated being _near_ anyone who was asleep, because he felt like he was intruding.

And it was with a heavy heart that Jack realized that—other than him—Ianto had no one to look over him.

He felt a surge of affection and protection towards the Welshman, and made sure to hold him extra tight as he fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Breakfast was an interesting affair. The dining room wasn't crowded, and they sat in a secluded table, Jack flirting and Ianto listening to him with fond amusement. The menu was in Welsh, just like the previous day, and Ianto again delighted in reading it aloud. Sadist. Privately, Jack thought he was getting revenge for the flirting, but one never knew with Ianto.

Still, the minutes of torture resulted in a well-picked home-cooked breakfast.

They returned briefly to their room, then, where Ianto outlined the things they could do. There wasn't much variety—"It's _Wales_ , Jack"—but Jack didn't mind too much. After all, he'd be spending the entire time, however short it would be, with Ianto.

Ianto been needed in town on Friday and would have to be there on Monday. It had been Saturday when they arrived, and the poor time management of the previous day—not to mention the prioritizing of sex over packing and exploring—had left them with only Sunday, as they would drive back after breakfast on Monday.

Their selection of activities was limited to hiking.

It was a much more civilized approach to connecting with nature than Jack was used to, but no less enjoyable.

Jack picked a long and complicated hiking route that would take them the whole day to cover. He didn't miss the look of trepidation that momentarily marred Ianto's face when he said that, but Ianto didn't say anything and neither did he; one way or another, he'd help Ianto get over his fear.

They left the SUV in town and set out on foot, each with a backpack of food, water, insect repellent, and a raincoat.

It was past midday, and they were in the wilderness. During their drive, Jack had seen the faraway mountains, scattered forests, and green, rolling meadows that Wales boasted. Had he been alone, Jack knew he would have wanted to explore more, but even he could admit that the countryside—at least, this part of it—lacked variety.

But it was serene. An uncharacteristically blue sky—Ianto had given it a look of deep distrust before insisting on the raincoats—and a bright sun above bright green valleys, almost like in a children's book.

As they began walking, they didn't talk, save for exchanging some observations: _this is great_ and _it smells so fresh_ and _it's going to rain_ and _you're such a pessimist_.

Jack was content to just walk, as they were doing. Not talk, not flirt, not tell tall tales like he usually did to entertain Ianto, not brood about what the future may or may not bring. His mind blissfully empty, Jack thus walked alongside Ianto, who seemed more and more comfortable as the time passed.

He took pictures, and though most of them were the same, the discrete shots of Ianto were the stars of his portfolio.

They reached a clearing at around five o'clock. Much to Ianto's disbelief, the sky was still clear and showing no signs of ill weather.

It wasn't a lavish feast. It wasn't even a feast. Jack took a few more pictures as Ianto took the food and water out of their backpacks, and when Jack came back to their picnic, he saw the cookies, granola bars, and sandwiches they'd packed spread out on a thin blanket. If it wasn't for the Welshman smiling at him, it would have felt like a perfectly ordinary meal.

He sat down and reached for one of the cookies, only to have his hand slapped away by Ianto.

"You'll spoil your dinner," Ianto warned.

Jack grumbled. "You're not my mother."

"No," Ianto agreed. "But I _am_ responsible for you out here. Just think of the headlines: _Welshman watches irresponsible tourist die because of impulsiveness and does nothing about it_."

Jack laughed. "That's fair."

"And who's going to drive you back if I'm not here to nag you?"

Jack laughed again. He couldn't even dream of exploring Wales without Ianto, and not because Ianto was his guide. He stopped and looked at his friend, smiling and relaxed. "How are you, Ianto?"

"We spent the past two days together."

"Yes. And?"

"Well… I mean… shouldn't you already have a vague idea of how I am?"

"I do." _Oh, but you're good at deflecting_. "But I never know with you. You're just… will you hit me if I call you a beautiful enigma?"

"Maybe. Jack, what have you been reading?"

"What do you mean?"

"That sounds like something out of… I don't know. It's horrible. You said you'd stop."

"I said I'd stop with the pick-up lines," Jack corrected. "And I did. That wasn't a pick-up line. Thus, I've broken no rules."

Ianto shook his head in what looked like fond amusement, and Jack realized he'd been played. He glared. Ianto raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You know what."

"No."

"Yes, you do. You never answered my question." Jack wasn't _mad_ at Ianto, just at himself. "Please?"

But—unlike Jack—Ianto didn't look upset. He didn't even look flustered. He smiled. "I'm alright."

Jack discreetly took hold of his hand. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He gave a short laugh. "Don't know yet if that's going to change when it gets dark, but we've a few hours until then."

Jack couldn't help but feel even worse. "I'm sorry."

"What on earth for?"

"Picking such a long route. I just… I wanted to see as much as I could, but it's all the same, and if you—let's turn back."

"That's… Jack." Ianto shook his head when Jack finally looked at him. "First of all, it would take us longer to turn back than to keep going. And second, none of the routes I offered were ones I couldn't take. I'm fine."

"Thanks, Ianto." And though he was happy that Ianto was not only facing his fears but trusting Jack with them, he didn't feel much better. "I'm still sorry, though. Even if you're amazing."

"Jack—"

"Not a pick-up line, just an observation."

Ianto snorted. "Just eat."

And despite the frustration he projected, Jack would tell he wasn't actually mad. And if he wasn't already sure of that, Ianto cemented the fact by leaning against him and letting Jack put an arm around his shoulders.

.oOo.

They stayed in the clearing for about an hour, resting from the walk and just talking. Jack managed to take a few more pictures when Ianto wasn't looking, and caught several kisses when Ianto was distracted; "There's no one here, there's nothing to worry about."

Ianto packed up their trash and put it into his backpack, moving the remaining water bottles to Jack's. He expressed more disbelief about the fair weather, but seemed cautiously optimistic.

Jack grinned at him as Ianto scrutinized the sky. "Hey, Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"What'd'you wanna bet it doesn't rain today?"

And just like that, Ianto became skeptical again. "It's going to rain, Jack."

"Oh, come on!" Jack urged. "Loser pays for dinner when we get back."

Ianto snorted. "I didn't know why you insist on losing money."

"You're awfully sure about that." Jack made a face.

"I am."

"So? Bet?"

Ianto sighed. "Fine."

Jack considered himself a firm optimist. He'd had bad things happen to him, but life was nothing if one spent it worrying. If something horrible was happening, it was likely outside of his control.

The weather, for example, was completely out of his control. If, like Ianto, he was worried, then he would have wasted valuable time from being happy.

They kept walking. The sun was supposed to set at eight, and they had only two hours until then. By Jack's estimation, getting back to the town would take half an hour longer than that. And while Jack was comfortable with the evening countryside, he wasn't sure Ianto would be; fears didn't just disappear.

He surreptitiously glanced at Ianto as the sky began to darken. He didn't miss how Ianto clenched his fists, and got ready intervene, but decided to wait several minutes and let Ianto compose himself and maybe even ask for help.

But Ianto didn't say anything, and by the time the sun was halfway set, Jack thought he looked pale.

It was another minute before he heard Ianto speak. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I… uh… nothing, sorry." In the dim light from their torches, Jack saw Ianto shake his head.

Jack wanted to push. But he didn't. Instead, he took a few steps closer to Ianto and lightly took his hand. "At least it isn't raining."

"Yeah." Ianto chuckled weakly. He squeezed Jack's hand, maybe in gratitude, maybe to tell him to hold tighter. Jack didn't know for sure, but he knew that Ianto relaxed, even if the tension wasn't completely gone.

They kept walking. It was all they'd done that day—other than breakfast and the picnic—but Jack didn't regret it. He thought Ianto didn't, either. To distract him, Jack started telling stories.

He began with a simple _Did I ever tell you about that time in Brazil?.._ and Ianto responded with _No, go ahead_.

.oOo.

They were just beginning to approach the town when a faint crash sounded from the sky.

"Jack?" Ianto said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"That's thunder."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I know."

He hadn't even noticed that clouds had covered the sky, but it was barely two minutes after the thunder that rain poured down over them.

Ianto retrieved their raincoats almost immediately, laughing.

Jack stared. "Ianto?"

"I told you it would rain!" But there was no malice in his voice, just teasing.

Jack smiled back. "Guess I owe you that dinner, then."

"Guess you do."

Holding hands, they half-ran all the way back to town, where they indulged in a hot meal, a long shower, and an early bedtime despite the storm raging outside.

.oOo.

Morning rolled around just as it had the previous day: violently.

Breakfast was just as enjoyable: Ianto and his vowels never failed to disappoint.

By ten, they were packed, signed out of the B&B, and heading out to the SUV.

Jack was walking behind Ianto, looking at the small buildings and people around them, so when Ianto stopped in his tracks, Jack wasn't paying attention and bumped into his back.

"Ianto?" he said.

"There's a tree on the SUV."

"What?" _That was a rental..._

"Oh, it's you, then," a local man, slightly shorter than Ianto, was saying as he approached.

Ianto frowned. "Yes?"

"The blokes with the fancy car."

"Yes."

"Well…" The man gestured to the car. "It's not in top shape, I'm afraid. But don't worry, we'll get it fixed up in no time. Just the windshield, see?"

"How long?" Jack wondered

"Oh, two days, give or take." The man thought for a moment. "Yes, two days, I think."

"Two days?" Ianto echoed.

"Yes, sir."

Ianto exchanged more pleasantries with the man—and Jack was assured that fixing the glass wouldn't be expensive—then led the way back to the B&B and signed them back in.

Jack wanted to say something. Their—Ianto's—plans had been ruined, after all. But something stopped him. Ianto didn't look like he was in the mood to talk, and Jack wasn't sure if the devastated look on Ianto's face was a figment of his imagination.


	13. Chapter 13

"Gwen?.. yes, hello… no, I'm fine." A pause. Jack debated closing the bathroom door and spending the rest of Ianto's conversation in there. Curiosity won out, and Jack could hear Ianto pacing. "...not my fault, I swear… the car… no, not the Audi… rental… tree fell on it. Look, Gwen… what do you mean?.. No, I'm not alone."

Jack swallowed. Whoever this "Gwen" was—he knew he should have asked, since it was bothering him so much, but that would mean he had to admit to eavesdropping—, she and Ianto were close enough for him to speak in such a casual manner.

"...none of your business… please… look, I'm sorry… Yes, it happens!" He sighed. "No, of course I'm not taking you for granted. Gwen, you have no idea how much I—"

Jack felt sick. Love confessions?

He needed to close the door. But he didn't.

"Yes, I'll be back Wednesday morning." More pacing. "Two days… Tuesday, if I get lucky… what? Fine. _We_. Happy?.. No? Gwen, please. I'll stop by as soon as I get back… yes, I promise… alright, thanks… No, I _do_ mean it… Yes, you, too. Bye."

"Gwen" again. Whoever she was, Jack saw her as his direct competition. He didn't know _who_ she was, of course, but that wasn't that important. What _was_ important was that she and Ianto were close.

Ianto's conversation with her had been nothing but platonic, yet Jack couldn't help but wonder. He wasn't a jealous man. With the casual way he approached relationships, he couldn't afford to be. And at the risk of sounding cliché—even though all great clichés stemmed from truth and he was too far gone to be anything _but_ a cliché—, Ianto was different.

It wasn't like he wanted to _marry_ Ianto, to spend the rest of his life with him; nothing that extreme. But he cared for Ianto a great deal, and that went beyond friendship. He didn't want his and Ianto's relationship to be a friends with benefits one, because one of those two factors ended up disappearing: either the friendship or the benefits. He just wasn't sure _what_ he wanted.

But that was a subject neither here nor there. It certainly wasn't a conversation Jack wanted to have when Ianto was so stressed.

 _Why_ Ianto was so stressed Jack had no idea. His plans had been completely skewed by the accident with the SUV, but—and maybe that was Jack's philosophy and he wasn't being fair and understanding to Ianto—it wasn't the disaster Ianto was making it out to be.

Whatever the problem was, it was bigger. Jack had no right to trivialize Ianto's feelings, even if he didn't understand them. So no matter what it was connected to: Ianto's fear of the wild, his need to be in Cardiff, or some other obscure reason—not "Gwen", because thinking like that would lead to so many other problems—, Jack would be there for him.

Ianto was a worrier, and the frown on his face was more miserable than adorable.

"You _can_ come out now," Ianto said, his voice a cross between amused and exasperated.

"Sorry." Jack went over to him. "Didn't want to interrupt. I didn't listen, I promise."

He wasn't sure what had compelled him to lie, but Ianto just shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Alright."

"So." Ianto smiled, though it was far from the smile he'd given the day before. "We have today and tomorrow to spend here. I'd suggest looking at the other hiking routes if you don't want to just stay here."

Jack nodded. There was nothing else to do, Ianto was right, and he knew that living together for longer than they'd planned in such a confined space would be a formidable test of their relationship.

Ianto picked a stack of papers up from one of the bedside cabinets and brought them over. Just like the previous day, he described them and Jack hung onto every word.

He picked a shorter route, this time, one that would take them closer to the mountains but have them back before dinner. As Ianto set about repacking their backpacks, Jack undressed and began searching for his outdoor clothes. He couldn't help but feel excited about the opportunity to explore Wales more, but he felt guilty.

Despite the way he accepted the situation, Ianto was noticeably upset. They were stuck because of an accident he could do nothing about, and unlike Jack, he wasn't going with the flow.

Jack, not having finished getting dressing and in just his underwear, sat on the edge of the bed.

"Ianto?" he said.

Ianto stopped his slightly frantic packing. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Jack asked. "I mean… staying here. Are you okay?"

Ianto sighed and put down the backpacks. He rubbed his hands over his face. "Yeah, I… it's not ideal, but… it's fine."

"Are you sure?" _It's my fault you're stuck out here_.

Ianto hesitated for just a second too long before nodding. He grimaced, probably sensing the dubious look Jack was sending him. "Yeah."

"Look, Ianto, you don't need to pretend." Jack stood up, walked over to him, and took his hands. "It's my fault you're out here, the least I can do is call you a cab."

"I can't ask you to do that," Ianto protested.

"You're not asking, I'm offering," Jack countered. "It's enough that I made you come with me. I can't ask you to skip work. I can't ask you to go out with me again. It's just… it's not fair and I'm sorry."

"Calling a car is expensive." Ianto made no move to move his hands, still in Jack's, and his protests were half-mast at best. Still, he tried. "It'd have to drive out of Cardiff to get here and drive all the way back. It's impractical!"

"And?"

"And I can't ask you to pay for that!"

Jack sighed. "Fine." He wanted to say _why don't you pay for it, then?_ but the answer was obvious. "But we don't have to go outside. _Both_ of us are supposed to enjoy it here; I wouldn't if you're unhappy."

"No, that's alright."

"At least pick a hiking route you'd want to take," Jack urged. He tugged Ianto closer and loosely hugged him. "Please?"

Ianto hummed. "I…"

"Come on, will it hurt you?" Jack pouted. He saw Ianto smile and relax, leaning his head against Jack's shoulder.

"I suppose not," Ianto said at last, sounding resigned but not defeated.


	14. Chapter 14

They got the SUV back on Tuesday. Despite what Ianto had hoped, the SUV had only been ready after dinner. They'd quickly been packed and on their way back to Cardiff, and were now about an hour away from the city.

Ianto was driving, and Jack was leaning against the window. It was too dark to see the passing countryside—as beautiful as it was, he'd seen so much of it over the past three days—so he looked up at the stars. The long summer day had already given way to night, and stargazing was one of Jack's favorite pastimes.

It reminded him of his time with the Doctor. Enough time had passed from their separation for Jack to look back at the relationship with nostalgia—and slight confusion—rather than pain. The Doctor—real name John Smith, but nicknamed so because of degrees in physics, astronomy, and chemistry—was an avid fan of stargazing, often urging Rose and Jack to join him. It had been a romantic, serene experience, and he'd stopped for a while after he'd been abandoned, but had gradually found the peace again.

Watching the stars out of a moving car was far from ideal, and Jack found himself wondering when again he'd be able to leave the city—with Ianto, of course—and find a field. A nice, large, empty field with no trees or roads nearby and a clear view of the sky.

The night would be warm, but he'd bring a blanket and spread it out on the ground, and spend hours just _looking_. Ianto would be there with him, slightly sarcastic but eventually enthusiastic, and they'd lie there together, and…

Jack sighed quietly.

"You alright?" Ianto said, looking sideways at him.

"Yeah." _Always_. "Ianto, you weren't interested in stars?"

"No." He gave Jack an odd look. "I told you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you wanted to be James Bond." Jack laughed when Ianto cringed, no doubt embarrassed of his childhood dreams and thinking them foolish. " _I_ wanted to live on Mars. But… mean, just look at them!"

"At the stars?"

"Yeah." Jack turned back to the window. "They're so far away, but we can see them, and they're completely other worlds. For all we know, there's planet out there somewhere, orbiting one of those stars, and there's an alien Jack telling an alien Ianto to just… _look_."

"I… I'm sorry, I just…" He shrugged. "I just never… I don't know."

"You never bothered to look." Jack turned back to him, grinning. "Then look now."

" _Now_?"

"Yeah." It was a bit impulsive—but Ianto had _definitely_ been impulsive when he'd propositioned Jack—but it wasn't anything _crazy_. "Just stop the car, get out for a few minutes, let me show you. Please?"

Ianto didn't say anything, but began to look around; not too much to become distracted, but Jack realized that he was searching for a place to stop, and smiled.

Soon enough, Ianto pulled over. He gave Jack a look that equated to _well, come on, then_ , and got out, Jack not long behind him.

"Okay," Jack said, taking his hand. Ianto'd adjusted to the country during their trip, but Jack had made sure they were back before night both times after the first day. Now, Ianto may not have been afraid, but just uncomfortable. Jack said again, "Okay," then paused.

Ianto wasn't looking at him, but to somewhere in the distance. There were trees there, and the road, but above them was the night sky.

"Okay," Jack said again. He pointed up. "I'll start simple. See that? That's the north star. And there…"

And again, Jack trailed off. The lighting wasn't romantic, the moon was much too small and the road way too close, but there was something enticing about the way Ianto stood, the way he was looking up, the small smile on his lips, the way he wove his fingers through Jack's.

"Jack?" Ianto said, and his voice only added to the ridiculous mix of feelings. There was a pause, and again he heard, "Jack?"

But it seemed as though Ianto was talking from far away, and it almost felt unreal when Jack replied: "Ianto."

"You seemed lost for a second," Ianto said lightly.

Jack shook his head. "Yeah, I suppose I _was_ lost." He waited a second. "In your eyes."

Ianto huffed accusingly. "You said you'd stop."

"Sorry. But you're pretty irresistible."

Ianto shook his head. "If you keep this up, I'm not coming next time."

 _Really?_ "Next time?"

"If you—uh, if there's going to be a next time."

Jack hugged his side, then smiled. "Yeah, there's going to be a next time."

.oOo.

Ianto dropped Jack off at his hotel, before begging off to his own flat. He declined Jack's multiple offers to spend the night, leaving only with an amicable _Goodnight_ and a kiss.

Jack was alone in his room, still unpacked, and sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

When they'd been standing in the field, Jack hadn't been lying. It was easy to lose himself in Ianto's eyes. It hadn't been just Ianto's eyes, then, but Ianto in general. But Jack often found himself thinking about the eyes. They were large and blue, and very expressive when he let them be. They twinkled when he laughed and clouded over when he was thinking or thought no one was looking.

Jack had never seen eyes like that.

Well, he had. Of course he had. There was no shortage in the world of expressive eyes or eyes that someone could be distracted by, but the thing with finding people attractive was that it was completely subjective. He saw people's beauty and admired it, but was rarely captivated by it. It was Ianto—and only Ianto—that was currently holding his attention.

Ianto and his beautiful eyes.

They'd been holding his attention for the past month, ever since they'd first met.

Jack was often accused of being impulsive, and he was. He'd never counter anything like that, because it was a basic part of his character. Others called him _handsome_ , _brave_ , and _kind_. And impulsive. More often than not, he made important decisions quickly and had few qualms about flying by the seat of his pants.

Much to the chagrin of everyone he'd known, Jack chose his lovers with almost the same spontaneity: one-night stands as well as long-term arrangements. It wasn't his problem—although it often ended up being his pain, because he got attached when he planned not to, and never learned from his mistakes—if they ended up not being compatible.

So even when he knew that his tryst with Ianto was probably a _very bad idea_ , Jack had no regrets.

He liked Ianto, he was fairly confident that Ianto liked him, and it wasn't a bad arrangement: friends as well as lovers.

It was a bit too much like the friends with benefits scenario for his liking.

He needed a drink, and fast.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack didn't drink. Sure, he had the occasional beer when he was out with friends, but he didn't _drink_. It simply wasn't something he enjoyed anymore; anything other than social drinking was a memory.

He didn't usually think about that part of his life. After all, so much good had happened since then. But John Hart _was_ a part of his life, no matter how bad, and their relationship had started off just like his and Ianto's.

At the time, Jack had been young. Barely twenty, bored with the opportunities he'd been presented with and eager to make his mark on the world. Armed with too much money and too little common sense, he'd met John Hart. John Hart was his neighbor, handsome in his own way and with the air of danger around him. Even then a romantic, Jack had fallen for his dubious charms.

After several spectacular months—Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New York—things changed. And caught up in the whirlwind, Jack hadn't done anything. Their journey continued, going _down, down, down_.

Jack didn't know where John Hart was now. For all he knew, the man was dead in a ditch somewhere. Jack had survived, had found something else, but John Hart… he'd turned out to be cruel and perverse, to have no consideration for anything other than his own happiness, to be selfish and closeminded, to be no better than the people Jack was always warned about.

But his time with John Hart—and Jack couldn't bear to think of simply calling him _John_ , because that was the Doctor's actual name and there was nothing in common between the men—had firmly put Jack off drink.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But he needed to clear his head. A little scotch never hurt anyone, and Jack _needed_ it. He needed to think: about himself, about Ianto, about the little voice in the back of his head telling him to make it _serious_ with his lover.

But when Jack finally found himself in the hotel bar, he found the area dreadfully empty. The tables and chairs in the restaurant had all been put away, and the bartender was faced away from him, reading. Jack checked the time—midnight. It was perhaps too late, but the bar was supposed to be open all night.

So he waved his hand at common sense and walked up to the bar, saying a "Hello" and asking for a drink.

The barman was young and attractive, probably working there to pay for school. He looked to be about Ianto's age, but lacked Ianto's dry tone and friendly smile. He was slightly shorter than Ianto, too, and wore his clothes with much less grace. In a word, had Jack not been so fixated on Ianto, he would have found the bartender attractive.

The man even tried to flirt with him, but gave up after a single failed attempt. Jack appreciated that. He wasn't interested in being social, he just wanted to think.

He and Ianto had only known each other for a month. It had been an incredible month, but still just a month. He didn't know Ianto's favorite color, but knew what he liked to eat. He knew Ianto tailored some of his suits and didn't like ice-cream because it gave him a headache, but didn't know where he lived.

Jack was an open person, used to most people being more closed off, but Ianto was open enough. He was a good listener and gave sound advice, but he only gave away the trivial details about his life. Jack knew nothing about his family or his past relationships—other than the fact that he'd had a girlfriend once—but Jack didn't give that information away, either, so maybe he wasn't one to talk.

He sighed.

It didn't matter. Not that he and Ianto were still basically strangers. Not that he was setting himself up for heartbreak. Not that Ianto was probably not interested. Not that he was still scared Ianto would run away to the comfortable confines of heterosexuality, even when he had proven time and again that he was comfortable with Jack. Not that his entire time in Wales had been spent with Ianto, and that he'd probably only been caught up in the whirlwind of world travel.

None of that mattered.

Jack slammed back his drink. He was well and truly whipped.

.oOo.

It was past midnight when Jack went to bed, but he woke up surprisingly early. It was only ten, and he ordered room service, choosing to indulge and getting a meal far larger than his customary continental breakfast.

He took a long, leisurely shower and just finished getting dressed when his cellphone rang.

It was Ianto.

Of course it was Ianto. They'd agreed to meet in the morning, after all, before Ianto had to go into the office. And as Ianto was a meticulous person, he was probably calling to make sure they really _had_ agreed to meet.

Jack smiled and picked up. "Good morning, Ianto."

" _Good morning, Jack."_

"I'm on my way out now," Jack said. He was dressed and ready for the day, nevermind that he was probably going to spend it all in the office with Ianto.

" _Right. Jack, listen, I'll have to change our plans a bit_."

"Is everything alright?" Jack asked quickly.

" _No, everything's fine,"_ Ianto assured. _"I just think I've… well, I think I misplaced my pants."_

"You were wearing them when we left."

" _Pants, Jack. Underwear."_

"Right, sorry." He laughed. "Where do you think you left them?"

Ianto laughed back. _"Actually, I think I might have accidentally put them in with yours when I was packing."_

"That's inconvenient. Want me to bring them?"

" _No, that's…"_ Ianto was probably blushing. Or probably not, since he only ever blushed when he was flustered; he was more amused than flustered, now. _"That's not necessary. I can come by and get them, if that's alright?"_

It was more than alright. "Of course. When?"

" _Um… well, how about the initial time we agreed on? Then we can just go from there?"_

"Yeah, that works," Jack agreed. "I'll meet you in the lobby in ten?"

" _Alright."_

.oOo.

Ten minutes later, Jack was standing in the lobby. Ianto was going to arrive any minute, as he was rarely—and never in the time Jack had known him—late. Sure enough, Ianto was walking through the doors and heading towards Jack.

He smiled. "Hi."

"Hi." Jack grinned. "Sleep well?"

Ianto grimaced. "I think so. Sleeping alone's… different."

"Yeah, it is," Jack agreed. "It was different for me, too. And not a good different."

Ianto nodded. "My pants?"

Jack discreetly offered them. "I like them. Red's definitely your color."

Ianto lowered his head, but he was smiling. "That's completely unnecessary. But thanks, Jack."

Jack was just about to respond when Ianto's phone started ringing and he hurried to answer it.

"Yes?.. Oh, hello, Gwen."

Jack cringed involuntarily and stepped back. Ianto didn't seem to notice, focused on the conversation.

"No. I called you yesterday!.. Yes, I did… Yes, I'm just about to head—what? No, Gwen, slow down… I'm listening! Right… uh… god…" He rubbed a hand over his face and began to pace. "Yeah, no, I… I'll be right there. I will, I promise… When haven't I?.. Alright, that's fair… Alright, bye. Thank you."

Jack watched as he hung up and continued pacing. Ianto looked worried and stressed, so different from a few minutes ago.

Jack couldn't help but be angry at "Gwen" for putting Ianto into that state. He angry at himself for still doubting the relationship that existed between her and Ianto.

"Jack?" Ianto finally said.

"Yeah?" he replied, cursing the petulance in his voice.

"I have to go."

 _Of course you do_. "Where?"

"Work." Ianto made a waving gesture in the direction of his phone. "That was my… well, I suppose I could call her my boss. I… have to go, I'm sorry."

"Can I go with you?" Jack hated asking, but Ianto had been going to work, anyway.

Ianto shook his head. "It's a meeting. I'll see you tomorrow, alright? I don't know how long it'll take, and knowing my luck, they'll want me in for the entire day." He looked at Jack strangely. "You alright?"

"Me?" Jack flashed him a grin. "Of course."

"Alright."

"Just…" _Don't ask. Don't do it._ "Who's Gwen?"

"I told you, she's my boss. Of sorts." He frowned. "Why…" Then, a laugh. "I'm not sleeping with her."

Jack bristled. "I never thought you were."

"I doubt that, but alright." Ianto stepped closer and surreptitiously took Jack's hands. "I have to go now, and I'm sorry, but… is tomorrow alright for you? To meet? If you want to, that is."

"Of course I want to," Jack said— _more than anything_ —and let him go with a small kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, Jack was woken up at seventeen past twelve by the ringing of his phone.

He stuck a hand out of the covers and grabbed for it. It fell off the bedside table onto the floor, and in his half-asleep state, Jack rolled off the bed to follow it.

The collision of the floor with his body was enough to rouse Jack, and he sat up with a yelp. He rubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair back.

The phone kept ringing.

And then it stopped.

Jack looked down at the cellphone in his hand, the bright letters of _missed call from Ianto Jones_ staring up at him accusingly.

He sighed. Ianto had probably been up for hours. Jack still had no idea what there was to do in the morning, other than have a good breakfast, but the schedule worked for Ianto.

He pressed the _call back_ button and waited for Ianto to pick up. When he did, Jack smiled. "Good morning."

" _Morning?"_ Ianto echoed. _"It's twenty past twelve!"_

"I had a late night." He'd spent it at the bar again, not drinking, just watching the people around him.

Ianto sighed. _"Well, alright, then. Good morning."_

"Was it?" Jack wondered. "I missed you."

Ianto laughed. _"You just got used to me."_

"So you didn't miss me?" Jack pouted, his hurt not completely false.

Another laugh. _"I suppose you could say I did."_

Jack grinned. The previous night at the bar hadn't helped him; but this certainly was. "How've you been?"

" _I saw you not even a day ago!"_

"That's fair," Jack agreed. "But you left after five minutes. And you just woke me up with a phone call."

He could imagine Ianto shaking his head as he said, _"I can't believe you were still sleeping."_

"I had a late night," Jack said again. "But anyway… why the call? Not that I'm complaining, of course. It's always a pleasure to hear your beautiful Welsh vowels."

" _You're_ in _Wales."_ Jack could hear Ianto roll his eyes. _"You're surrounded by the 'vowels'. No idea why you're fixated on mine. But, um, I was just calling to tell you that I'm can't meet you today, like I promised. I have to go to my sister's and… well, I don't mean to assume, but if you still wanted to do something… I just thought I'd let you know early that I can't."_

Since Jack _had_ wanted to do something together later, he was disappointed. But he smiled and nodded, realizing quickly that Ianto couldn't see him. "That's alright. I'll be fine for a day. It _is_ just one day, right?"

He hated how needy he sounded. But Ianto didn't seem to mind. _"Yeah, I'll be back tomorrow. Might spend the night there, I don't know yet."_

"I hope you have fun," Jack said, and the rest of the conversation dissolved into goodbyes.

They hung up soon after. Though his sleep had been interrupted, Jack wasn't tired. He didn't feel like getting out of bed, but he didn't want to stay there, either.

The truth, he realized as he got back into bed, was that he didn't want to spend the day alone. He was a social person, and while it could be said that he spent too much time with Ianto, he disagreed: unless mutually agreed upon, there was no limit to human interaction, and Ianto hadn't said anything against them spending time together.

It was their friendship Jack valued, first and foremost, although the prospect of a future romantic relationship looked better and better.

.oOo.

With nothing else to occupy his evening, Jack found himself sitting in a pub. His month with Ianto had acquainted him with the finest of Cardiff's establishments, even if they often had dinner together at Jack's hotel.

But it was strange to be there alone. Different and lonely. Jack was sitting at the bar and nursing a water—he had no taste for alcohol that evening—and he could swear that the bartender was sending him pitying looks.

But there was nothing about Jack to pity. Nothing at all. He was attractive and relatively young, and without even moving from the bar, he could see five different people admiring him.

He checked his phone. He hadn't been waiting for anything or expecting anything, but it was still disappointing to not see a text from Ianto. Ianto was with his sister. Jack hadn't even known he _had_ a sister. And, yeah, he wasn't one to judge, considering that he didn't talk much about his family, either, but it was just something that Ianto had forgotten to mention.

His earlier euphoria and excitement gone, Jack drew his head out of the clouds and focused on reality for the first time in weeks.

The likelihood of Ianto feeling as strongly about him as he felt about Ianto was slim. Very slim. The likelihood of their relationship even working out after the current honeymoon phase was over… was slim. The facts weren't on Jack's side.

Not at all.

It was bleak but realistic. His time with Ianto was finite; life wasn't a romance movie. He didn't get to ride off into the sunset with a person of his choice, he didn't get to be the dashing hero that brought purpose and happiness to someone's life.

A woman slid into the seat next to him. Jack didn't want to look at her, but she said "Hello."

"Hello," he replied, because he was polite. He looked at her, then: short, blonde, and closer to his age than Ianto's.

"Are you here alone?" she asked, tracing the top of her glass with a manicured finger.

"Yes."

"My name's Melissa." She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes.

"Jack," he said.

"Jack…" she repeated. "You're not a local boy, are you?'

"Is it that obvious?"

She laughed as if he'd said something immensely clever. He hadn't. "What are you doing in Cardiff, Jack?"

Her voice was nothing like Ianto's. "Visiting."

"Do you like it here?"

Perhaps she'd expected a compliment. But Jack just shrugged. He liked Cardiff well enough, but if he was being honest, the only reason he'd stayed so long was because of Ianto. "Yeah," he said finally.

She frowned. "You're not really, though, are you?"

It was the sort of sympathy that grated on the nerves and yet was completely genuine. Jack shrugged again. "I _am_ , just…"

"Just not right now."

He looked at her. "What—"

"I'm a psychologist." She shrugged. "It's what I do. It's not easy to hit on men at the bar when they begin broadcasting their misery the minute they look at you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry." Another shrug. "Not really hitting on you, anyway. You just looked like you could use some company. So where is she?"

"Who?"

"The woman you're pining over."

 _Ianto_. "He."

"Huh?"

"He." Jack said. "And I'm not pining!"

She laughed. "Whatever you say. But whoever it is better be worth it!"

Without hesitation, Jack nodded. "He is."

"Then call him."

Jack didn't often talk to strangers—with the purpose of just _talking_ to them—and he didn't listen to their life advice. But Melissa was a psychologist, and she was nice, and she seemed to _understand_.

"I'm serious, Jack." More sympathy. She really _was_ good at it, once one got over the overwhelming kindness. "Whatever you're not-pining about, it won't be resolved here."

Jack nodded, excused himself, and went outside. He had a Welshman to call.


	17. Chapter 17

Like everything else to do with Ianto, it was probably a bad idea. But Jack needed to talk to him, _now_.

He dialed Ianto's number and waited.

" _You have reached Ianto Jones. Please leave your name, and I will get back to you_. _"_

"Damn it," Jack muttered. He lowered his phone. Ianto always answered, but maybe he didn't because he was busy. He was with family, after all.

But Jack's bitter mood was broken by his phone ringing. It was Ianto.

"Hi," he said eagerly.

" _Hi, Jack."_ Ianto's voice was different than his usual dry amusement when he and Jack spoke on the phone. _"Sorry I didn't pick up. I was calling_ you _, if you can believe it."_

Jack laughed. "I thought you were with your sister."

" _I was."_

"You left?"

" _I…"_

"No, nevermind that," Jack interrupted. "Ianto… I need to talk to you."

" _It's not anything bad, is it?"_ Ianto sounded calm enough, but Jack liked to think that he knew him well enough to hear the slight nervousness.

"No, nothing bad." Jack swallowed. "I just… When are you coming back?"

" _I'm already back."_

"Then can you come over to the hotel?" Jack wondered. "If you can?"

" _Yeah, I can."_

"Alright, I'll be waiting." Jack had to get from the pub to the hotel, and he knew he'd need to tidy up a bit. It was eight, so slightly late, but if he had half an hour… "Want to get a late dinner? I owe you, remember?"

" _Yeah, you do."_ A laugh; Ianto sounded less nervous. _"Of course. When?"_

"Eight-thirty?"

" _Yeah, alright. I'll see you then, Jack."_

Jack loved the way Ianto said his name.

.oOo.

Jack met him in the lobby again. They went to the restaurant and had a quick dinner before it closed, but Jack didn't talk about what he'd wanted to; he'd do that in private.

After the meal—which Jack insisted on paying for, even when Ianto tied to convince him that the bet didn't matter and he'd paid for everything in the B&B, and Ianto didn't want to impose—they went up to Jack's room.

Once there, Jack wasn't sure if he felt more or less comfortable. He had no permanent home, but the hotels he picked were always comfortable enough for him to enjoy.

He offered Ianto a drink from the mini-bar, but Ianto declined and they ended up side by side on the bed.

It was… well, it wasn't comfortable. Jack wouldn't go as far as to say it was awkward, but it was near to that. He wanted to begin a conversation, but there was no way to start it without seeming desperate.

And then Ianto solved the problem, like he always seemed to do.

They had moved closer as Jack had been thinking, and their shoulders were touching. Jack hadn't even noticed that he was leaning into Ianto's side.

But Ianto was kissing him, and they were falling backwards onto the bed, and nothing else mattered.

That wasn't true, of course. Being with Ianto was amazing—what he lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm and attentiveness—but even that couldn't completely distract Jack. But after a few seconds, Jack abandoned his inner protests and gave in easily.

It was Ianto. Of course he did.

Some time later, they were still in bed together. It was late enough for them to fall asleep—and Jack wanted to, because it was strange to be alone at night after sleeping together for days—but Jack couldn't let himself forget what he'd wanted to talk about.

"Hey, Ianto?" he said quietly, hoping that he hadn't already drifted off.

Ianto shifted a bit. "Yeah?"

Jack smiled at him and tilted his chin up for a kiss. He made himself more comfortable for what he was about to do. "You know that thing I wanted to talk to you about?"

"Yeah."

"I'll get to that, then. So you didn't come all this way for nothing."

Ianto grinned. "I wouldn't say 'nothing'."

Jack smiled, too, and nodded. "You're right, there." He laughed, and took Ianto's hand.

Ianto let him, then said, "And?"

"And. Right. Um… we've known each other for a month, and we've… we've gotten really close. Yeah?" Jack tried be serious and still stay optimistic, but it was hard, because Ianto seemed to begin to close himself off. "And, well, I know that it's only been a month and that's not nearly enough time to get to know each other and it might be rushed, and…"

Ianto slowly—almost unnoticeably—removed his hand from Jack's. He cleared his throat. "It's fine, Jack."

"What?"

"You don't have to explain yourself."

"No, I do," Jack protested. "Just… hear me out, please?"

"Fine."

Jack took a deep breath. "I'm not good with relationships. Not the emotional part. I'm impulsive and I can be insensitive, and you're not the first person to accuse me of the first but most people go straight for the second, and I'm sorry. It's bad enough that the only reason I stayed in your office—before I decided to talk to you and figured out you're amazing—was because you're attractive, but—"

"Jack."

"Ianto?"

"You don't have to explain yourself," he repeated more firmly. "I understand."

Jack furrowed his brow. " _I_ don't." He pouted. "What are you talking about?"

"Relationships, emotions, apologies… you're leaving, aren't you? And this is your way of trying to end on good terms." Ianto shook his head. "I admit that _this_ wasn't the most sensible idea, but it was good, yeah?"

Jack stared. Ianto looked back, his amicable half-smile dimming by the second. Jack blinked. And without warning, he burst out laughing. He couldn't resist.

"Jack?"

"I'm sorry," he said, still chuckling. "It's just… for someone so brilliant, you've got this completely wrong."

"I do?"

He'd even ignored the compliment. Jack stifled another laugh. "I'm not trying to cut this off, I'm trying to ask you out!"

"Oh."

"Yeah." Jack wanted to laugh more, but the butterflies in his stomach told him to be nervous instead. "So what do you say? Dinner? A movie?"

"I…" Ianto blinked. "That's… that sounds nice."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes." Ianto grinned. "Yes."


	18. Chapter 18

Waking up and knowing he was 'taken' was one of the most satisfying thoughts Jack had ever had. Dating was different than being just friends or fooling around. It felt nice: just saying the word. He wasn't sure exactly what he and Ianto now were to each other. They were a _couple_ , he supposed, and that fact made him smile.

They'd go on their date. And many others, Jack hoped. They'd hold hands, and kiss each other, and it would be perfect and romantic. They still weren't out of the honeymoon period of their affair, and the euphoria of being in a brand new relationship would certainly add to that.

He wanted to stifle the smile that broke out, but found that he couldn't. He didn't want to. There was nothing wrong with what he was feeling. If anything, it was completely normal.

He only hoped that Ianto was feeling the same.

But Ianto was sleeping. He'd told Jack multiple times that sleeping with someone else helped the insomnia, and it was true: over the past month, Jack saw him sleep better and longer.

It had been too long since he'd felt so good. Jack smiled to himself before rolling over in bed to look at the still-sleeping Ianto. But he _wasn't_ still sleeping.

Bleary blue eyes bored into his, catching up to the night's events—sex, romance, more sex, falling asleep together—but still looking _confused_. "Jack?"

Jack pressed a small kiss to the tip of Ianto's nose. "Good morning, Ianto."

"Good morning." Ianto smiled, frowned, smiled again, then settled on a confused pout. "Jack? Are… are we—what's… damn it. Jack—"

He broke Ianto off with a kiss, nibbling on Ianto's bottom lip before drawing back and grinning. "We're dating."

"Right." Ianto slowly nodded. "Are you sure?"

"I asked, you said yes." Jack mock-glared. "You're not one of those super insecure people, are you?"

"No, of course not." Ianto quickly shook his head. "I'm just… I'm a realist?"

Jack was skeptical. "A realist?"

But Ianto only nodded. "You didn't know that. You didn't know that I'm not insecure, just careful, you didn't know that I'm a cautious optimist, not a realist. Jack, this… us… you don't know me."

"But I _want_ to know you."

"Typically, you get to know a person _before_ you ask him out."

"Typically, you get to know a person before you proposition them." Jack poked Ianto's ribs in a particularly sensitive spot, earning a squeak. "If I remember correctly, that was _you_."

"Touché," Ianto murmured.

"But so what if this isn't typical?" Jack continued. "You were supposed to be my tour guide. It's not a bad thing you became my lover. And my friend. And my boyfriend."

"You never asked me to be your boyfriend."

"I didn't?"

"No, just to go on a date."

Jack huffed. "Well, will you go on that date with me as my boyfriend, then, Ianto?"

Ianto laughed. "Of course."

Jack laughed back. "See?"

"What?"

"I _do_ know you; I knew you'd say yes!"

Ianto shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." Jack turned serious. "But I meant what I said, too. I like you, Ianto. I like everything I know about you, and I bet $50 I'll like everything I learn about you."

"We use pounds here."

"£50, then." Jack was determined. "I you don't, just tell me. But I like you. _You_ , no one else. And if you say there's more, show me."

Ianto shook his head in bemusement. "It's like you stepped right out of a period drama."

"I stepped off a plane and into your arms." Jack laughed. "No, I stepped into your tourist office. If you don't want this, tell me. Call if off, no hard feelings. Hell, we can still sleep together if you want to."

"You're ridiculous."

"I hope you don't do that, yes," Jack agreed.

"Well, I won't." Ianto took a deep breath. "I like you too, Jack. With your pick-up lines and your flair, and… Yes. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you." Ianto leaned forward and kissed him. "Yes, I'll be your boyfriend."

.oOo.

They had breakfast together many times. There was no reason for Jack to be glowing, no reason for him to feel as if he'd only just learned to live… but there he was. Glowing. Smiling. Beaming. He was with Ianto—and he didn't need to be particularly observant to see that Ianto was just as happy as he was—and that was all that mattered.

They decided not to leave the hotel for breakfast—there'd be time for romantic getaways later—and so found themselves at the table that had become their 'regular'. They waited for their food, a large breakfast for two, and did what they usually did: half-talked, staring into each other's eyes.

Now that he thought about it, he and Ianto already acted like a couple. The thought made him giddy.

He heard Ianto chuckle. "What's got you smiling?"

"You," Jack replied plainly.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "You never change."

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"There you go, then."

Ianto laughed again, and Jack could tell he wasn't actually annoyed. Ianto was never annoyed with him, not really,

"Hey, Ianto?" Jack said.

"Yeah?"

"It's nice."

"What?"

"This. _You_."

Ianto shook his head with what looked like fondness. "I think I've finally figured you out."

"Really?"

"Really." He nodded. "You go around in that greatcoat and flirt with most people you meet, but really, you're no different than the rest of us. I'm surprised you suggested the no strings attached sex in the first place."

"I'm not—"

"You're a dreamer. Sure, you don't hate it, but it's not what you really want."

"At first, maybe," Jack agreed. "But I wasn't always the man I am now."

"And? It's who you are now that matters," Ianto said with a finality that Jack had rarely heard. "And you're right. This _is_ good."

"Yeah." Jack nodded. "I'm happy."

And he was. He was even happier when Ianto nodded and said "Me, too."

Just after the food was brought, they joined hands over the table. It wasn't a comfortable way to eat, and Jack hadn't understood why people did it, but doing so hadn't even been a conscious decision. But it felt nice. It felt romantic, and Jack smiled at Ianto from across the table.

He had a feeling that he was going to like this relationship thing.


	19. Chapter 19

Jack scheduled their movie dinner date for that evening, so Ianto left almost immediately after breakfast. Jack gave him a kiss and walked him to his car, and it felt _so_ nice.

If the honeymoon period of their affair was bad, the honeymoon period of their relationship would be unimaginable.

They were meeting at six at the movies—or _cinema_ , as Ianto called it, but that was one of the things Jack's Americanisms had never allowed—and then they'd go to dinner. The restaurant was fancy, but not overwhelmingly so: just a tiny bit more upscale than their usual fare but not enough to scare Ianto away.

There would, of course, be fancier restaurants, but it was only their first official date.

He'd offered to pick Ianto up at his flat, but Ianto had refused. For one, he would have to rent a car again. For another… Ianto hadn't given a concrete reason, just calling Jack soppy and saying that he was being ridiculous.

Jack, now, grudgingly agreed. It would have been too much to do that, no matter how much he wanted to be romantic. He'd do that for a later date.

He spent the day in the hotel. Though he didn't have an actual job, he spent the time putting his affairs in order: catching up on a budget, looking through his email, checking up on some friends. For all that he was an independent man, Jack cared about people, both family and friends. Granted, the former was in America and thoroughly disapproving of his nomadic lifestyle and the latter was all over the world and preoccupied with their own lives.

Still, it got his mind off of Ianto and it helped get work done, so Jack didn't mind. By the time it was four-thirty, he was done and ready to prepare for the date.

He took a shower and spent ten minutes trying to get his hair to behave. He spent another ten minutes trying to find a pair of pants— _trousers_ , a memory of Ianto said—and another twenty trying to find a shirt.

He wasn't fully dressed by the time he had to leave, and ended up running out of the hotel seven minutes later than he'd planned. The taxi he'd had the thought to call was waiting in the street, and the driver wasn't even too irritated; likely, Jack's nervousness was obvious.

He was only four minutes late to the restaurant, but Ianto was already there.

As usual, Ianto was immaculately dressed. He was wearing a purple shirt and was smiling at Jack as he came closer, not even upset at the lateness. From there, they proceeded to the front podium, where Jack said, "Harkness, party of two," and they were led to the table he had reserved.

Jack resisted the urge to pull Ianto's chair out for him, if only because Ianto was already seated by the time he wanted to do it. Jack smiled at him before sitting down himself.

They asked for two waters, and the waiter departed, coming back soon after with the drinks and leaving them alone to ponder the menu.

But it wasn't the menu Jack was focused on. It was like every other time they'd had dinner together. Except it was in a restaurant. And their table was secluded. And the waiter had given them a knowing look. And there were flowers and a candle in between them. And it was their first date and Jack was shaking because Ianto was smiling at him and… he needed to breathe.

 _In. Out. Okay. Smile._ "So what are you thinking?"

"In general, or…"

"What to eat," Jack clarified.

"Oh." Ianto turned back to the menu. "Hmm…"

He looked very good thoughtful. There was a small crease between his eyebrows, but not the serious and slightly ominous crease that appeared whenever he was on the phone or lost in his mind.

Finally, Ianto nodded. "I think I have a faint idea."

Jack didn't. He couldn't understand it. They had plenty to talk about usually, but now? Jack had no idea what to do. It felt awkward. He didn't like feeling awkward. There was nothing to feel awkward _about_!

This wasn't what a relationship was supposed to be like! Then again, Jack didn't exactly have a good history with love and attachment. People did more together than talk; they did more together than have sex. Life was a combination of so many different things—he couldn't just focus on one.

He wouldn't.

Jack discreetly toed off one of his shoes and traced a path up Ianto's leg with his foot: ankle to knee. Ianto glared at him over the open menu, but said nothing; the tablecloth was long.

Besides, even if it was their first date, it wasn't the first time they'd been out together. They'd been _together_ before, too, so it wasn't like Jack had proprietary to worry about. He'd wanted the date to be perfect, yes, but maybe _perfect_ didn't have to mean _conventional_.

And it wasn't like Ianto minded.

.oOo.

As far as first dates went, it was perfect. Unconventional, sure; inappropriate, sure; slightly awkward, definitely; and perfect.

There was a number of people who would be appalled by it. After all, nearly giving Ianto a handjob at the dinner table with his foot in the middle of a restaurant—even if the tablecloth was long and the table was secluded—wasn't what most people would approve of. Making out in the bathroom and nearly giving up and just going for it in the rented SUV was definitely… different.

They had gotten too distracted to even get to the movie.

And yet Jack had loved every second of it.

His initial wish to do it _'right'_ could stuff itself. It was _right_ to him, even if there weren't any flowers or chaste kisses—there _were_ going to be flowers and chaste kisses, just not then and there.

Ianto had left his car in the restaurant parking area and had gone home with him.

It was only the next morning that Jack realized that Ianto had brought a bag with him.


	20. Chapter 20

Ianto woke up before Jack did, but when Jack _did_ wake up, he found Ianto looking at him… _fondly_ , he thought. Ianto got an extra-long good morning kiss for that. Jack was happy. It was pretty simple, but it was true. Waking up next to someone—next to Ianto—was becoming a habit.

Ianto rested his head next to Jack's neck. "What's got you so pensive?"

"Nothing," Jack assured him. "You."

"Me." Ianto scoffed. "You spend so much time thinking about me!"

"I know, it's doing pretty bad things to my health."

"Thinking?"

"Ha-ha," Jack said dryly. "You. The other day, I was making breakfast and I got distracted— by you, again!—, and I almost spilled the water all over myself. The _hot_ water!"

"Maybe I should spend less time with you?" Ianto suggested with a smile. "Give you some time to calm down, forget about me a little?"

"Don't you dare," Jack growled playfully. "Besides, the health benefits outweigh the ramifications."

Ianto laughed. "Using big words, I see."

Jack growled. "Don't tease."

A grin. "I thought you like it when I tease."

Jack pretended to consider it. "Maybe. You're getting cocky."

"I hope that wasn't a pun."

"Maybe, maybe not." Jack shrugged. "You tell me."

Another grin, this one definitely teasing. "I think we need to prove your theory that there are health benefits to this arrangement."

"There are definite health benefits, I assure you." Jack turned and began kissing Ianto's neck. "Copious release of dopamine whenever you're near. Enhanced concentration—"

"You're anything _but_ focused! You just told me so!"

"You didn't let me finish." Jack playfully nipped at Ianto's earlobe. "I was going to mention that the concentration was focused on a specific someone. And yes, that's not completely healthy, but I've been looking at you so much, I think I'd be able to paint you perfectly."

Ianto gasped; Jack didn't know if it was from pleasure or surprise until he spoke: "You paint?"

"No."

"Right."

"Where was I?" Jack kissed Ianto's cheekbone. "Oh, yes. The vigorous exercise, amongst other

things."

Ianto laughed back, and somehow managed to move even closer to him until he was pinned under Jack.

The adverse health effects of their relationship, if there were any—which, for all his teasing, Jack doubted—, paled in comparison to the benefits.

.oOo.

There were several things to be said for morning sex. It was a good way to start the day, both (or more) participants were energetic and happy in the morning, and it was something that most young couples did.

While Jack wouldn't exactly call himself _young_ , being ten years Ianto's senior, he felt young at heart. That was an interesting phrase. He felt all the younger for being with Ianto, and not in a creepy way—John had said it to him, once, and he'd been only a year older than Jack, but it had been very unsettling.

He liked Ianto.

And he was free to say it.

Now that he and Ianto were together—and the word still made him feel giddy, no matter that they'd been sleeping together for over a month—he felt free to be as stupidly romantic as he wanted to be.

He took the opportunity to do so every time Ianto wasn't around, and he wasn't ashamed to say it. There was nothing wrong with romance, after all—there was when he wasn't in a relationship, but now he _was_ and he felt _amazing_ , so it was alright.

Now that Ianto was in the shower— _alone, the bastard_ —Jack put the bed back into a semblance of order and took out his clothes for the day. It was when he noticed the open backpack near one of the bedside tables that Jack realized something he should have noticed last night.

A grin broke out over his face when he thought of Ianto, no doubt brushing his teeth… with his own toothbrush.

Ianto'd never brought over a bag. He'd either left early or in the previous day's clothes, and while it wasn't ideal, Jack hadn't pushed; he hadn't had the right. He didn't want to pry, but a second glance into the bag as he pushed it out of the way showed a laptop and what was probably a change of clothes.

He wasn't one to get his hopes up, but the signs were pointing him in an optimistic direction.

"What time is it?"

"Ianto!" Jack whirled around.

Ianto laughed. "Jack?"

Jack gaped at Ianto, standing fully naked in the bathroom threshold. He wasn't even holding a towel! It took Jack a full minute to let his thoughts catch up to his mouth. "Hi."

"Hi." Ianto looked around. "Where's my bag? I forgot to grab my clothes."

Jack blinked a few times. "Right."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Where is it?"

Jack pointed. "Here it is."

"Thanks." Ianto leaned over and Jack thought for sure he was going to faint. He sat down on the bed. Ianto turned around and frowned. "You alright?'

Jack gave a tight nod and a strained "Yes."

Ianto threw him another frown but seemed to think no more of it. Jack was thankful, and enjoyed the last brief moments of seeing his boyfriend naked.

Several minutes—and kisses—later, Ianto was fully dressed and… preparing to go somewhere.

Jack looked at him curiously. "Where're you off to?"

"I need to get my car."

"Where is it?"

"Back at the restaurant." Ianto made a vague waving motion with his hand. "We went back in the SUV, remember?"

"Right." Jack nodded. "Want me to come with you?"

"If it's not any trouble." Ianto nodded. "I'd really love not to have to take a taxi."

Jack didn't quite understand what Ianto had against public transport—other than the fact that it was expensive, but this was a short trip—but he'd take any excuse to spend more time together. That would change in the future, he knew, but the urges to be together were natural and nothing to shy away from.

He nodded, grinning when Ianto smiled. "I'll get dressed, then, and we'll go. Want to grab a lunch on the way?"

"On the way back, I think," Ianto said. "I'd like to get there sooner rather than later; I think I saw some _violators will be towed_ warning signs."

"Right." Jack nodded, and was ready ten minutes later.

.oOo.

He didn't know what to do. Ianto—with multiple exclamations of _fuck!_ and _just my luck_ and _this is just great, isn't it?_ —was pacing near where his car had been. He _hadn't_ been parked in the towing zone, but his car was gone, and though Jack saw the humor in the situation, he also saw how genuinely distressed Ianto was.

"The restaurant can pay for it, right?" he tried to comfort Ianto. It wasn't his fault, after all! He'd broken no rules. There was no response, just angry mutters to no one in particular. Jack shook his head. "Come on, it's just a simple misunderstanding, I know you can sort it out."

Ianto muttered something else, then paused and stopped pacing. "Yeah, I think so."

And then his phone was out. Jack hadn't even said _Who are you calling?_ before he heard Ianto say, "Gwen!"

Jack's previous jealousy reared its ugly head, even when he knew that he and Ianto were together and that whatever Ianto had with Gwen was a _work thing_ and a _friendship_.

"I'm in a bit of—no, I haven't been _arrested_!" He heard Ianto laugh. "No, I haven't stolen anything… you aren't even supposed to know about that… Yes. No, I'm fine… well… my car's been tow—stop laughing!"

Jack had to fight back a snigger, too. He was sympathetic, he really was, but there was something morbidly funny about Ianto losing his temper. Then Ianto frowned, and it wasn't so funny anymore.

"Can you help me?" The frown became downright pitiful, and he threw Jack a glance. "No, I can't… you know I can't. You know I would never ask… can you just… oh, I don't know. Can you talk to them?"

Silence. Jack watched Ianto's face go from sad to frustrated to thankful to happy.

"Yes. Yes, I'll… no, you _won't_!" More laughing, this time freer than before. "Fine. And Gwen?.. Thank you."

Jack saw him close the phone and lean against the SUV with a relieved sigh. "Everything go alright, then?"

Ianto looked at him, still smiling. "Yeah, it did. She laughed a bit, but she can help."

"What can she do?"

"She's with the police," Ianto explained. "Not that I'm abusing my personal friendships to get away from breaking the law, but it's not illegal to park here."

Jack nodded. "That's fair." _I thought Gwen was your boss?_ "So when can you get the car?"

"She said she'd get it for me." Ianto was definitely happier. "We just have to drive by the station

after lunch."

"That's good." Jack smiled. _Communication is key_. "So, Gwen…"

"I already told you I'm not sleeping with her," Ianto laughed.

"I know." He nodded. "Besides, you're dating me, you don't have time to sleep with other people."

Ianto laughed again. "I don't have the desire to sleep with other people, either. But you were saying?.."

"Yeah." Jack nodded. "I was just wondering… I thought you said she was your boss?"

"Oh, she is." Ianto didn't look at all fazed. "Cardiff tourist board isn't exactly wealthy. You saw that I had the back room to myself just because they couldn't afford to expand the office. They use a lot of volunteers, and Gwen decided to help out."

Jack nodded. "That's nice of her."

"She's a very nice person."

Jack nodded again, processing the information. "So… lunch. My treat?"

Ianto looked hesitant. "I…"

"Please?" Jack pouted. _Can't fail_.

"Yeah, alright."

.oOo.

Ianto insisted on driving them from lunch to the police station. At face value, it was because of his doubts about Jack's driving ability, but Jack thought that he needed to _do_ something. Ianto wasn't a nervous person, but he cracked under internal pressure, whether or not it was justified.

So Jack sat back and let Ianto take the wheel. People were allowed to be nervous in new situations, after all. _He_ was nervous, too.

He was going to finally meet "Gwen".


	21. Chapter 21

"Gwen" turned out to be a cheery Welshwoman with long hair and a gap-toothed smile. She hugged a seemingly reluctant Ianto and handed over his car—"Free of charge, pet, it was an accident"—before enthusiastically greeting Jack.

Jack grinned. He liked her. She was nice and _alive_ , and he wasn't jealous of her anymore because while she cared immensely about Ianto, she kept talking about her fiancé and how amazing he was.

He had no idea how or why she and Ianto were friends—she was clearly an extrovert, and while Ianto wasn't completely reserved, he was much calmer—but that didn't matter. She seemed to dote on him as a sister would, and she _beamed_ when Ianto mentioned that he and Jack were together, and when she left, it was in a flurry of smiles and hugs.

Jack was still grinning when Ianto went over to his car.

"That was…"

"Yeah," Ianto agreed. He shrugged sheepishly. "She's a bit much, but she means well."

Jack nodded. "I know." He watched Ianto unlock the door and move to sit. "You're coming back to the hotel, right?"

"If you want me to."

"I do." Jack nodded. "And your bag's still there, so…"

Quickly, Ianto looked at him, alarmed. "I… I didn't… I didn't mean to impose, I just thought—"

Jack silenced him with a kiss, then drew back and shook his head fondly. "I'm not complaining."

"Right." Ianto cleared his throat. "I'll see you back there, then."

Jack nodded and watched him drive away. Now that he saw Ianto drive, he nodded to himself; Ianto _was_ a much less erratic driver than he was.

Ianto was also… Jack didn't want to be redundant, but the words _beautiful_ , _amazing_ , and _perfect_ came to mind. He was a lover, not a writer, and he knew that Ianto would cringe at the compliments. Besides, a picture said a thousand words, and flowers were worth just as much.

A quick search on his phone found a small but popular florist not that far out of his way. Another search determined his bouquet.

He only hoped that the flowers were in season.

 _Estelle's Flower Shop_ was brightly lit and inviting. The door was open, and Jack entered, seeing that the vast array of flowers didn't clutter the shop and that the counter—even with the flowers on it—was clearly visible, as was the woman behind it.

She was about as old as Jack's grandmother, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Good afternoon," Jack said, approaching.

"Good afternoon," she returned. "How can I help you today?"

"Can you put together a bouquet, please? For someone special." Jack smiled. "I don't know exactly how this works, but I'd really appreciate some help, ma'am"

She chuckled. "Estelle, please. None of this _'ma'am'_ business."

"Estelle." _She's sweet_. "I'm Jack."

"What sort of bouquet do you want, Jack?"

"Well…" Jack took out his phone and held it out. "It's not a bouquet, per se, but I want these flowers… I… uh, I put the list together a few minutes ago."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Let's hear it."

"Yeah." Jack cleared his throat, suddenly nervous.

"Don't usually buy flowers for her, do you?"

"Him," Jack corrected off-handedly. "And no. It was our first date yesterday, and I just wanted… I guess I just wanted to do something nice. Something romantic, you know?"

"Of course." She smiled. "I cannot guarantee that I will have them all, but I'll try."

"Thank you." Jack opened the list on his phone and took a deep breath. "So… I… well, I admit I know nothing about flowers."

"No need to be shy, Jack," Estelle said kindly. "I'm sure he'll love whatever you've got picked out."

"How can you be sure?"

There was a twinkle in her eyes. "He can't not, not when you're so passionate and going to so much trouble."

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Thanks."

"So what arrangement have you got in mind?'

"Well, it's not an arrangement, per se, like I said, but—oh, I'll just read it." Jack turned his phone on again and licked his lips. "Um… a dwarf sunflower, a tall sunflower, an amethyst… flower, an Indian jasmine flower, uh… red morning glory, a pineapple… flower…" He trailed off and looked at her, the understanding dawning on him that he really _didn't_ know what kind of flowers he had picked.

Estelle was looking at him, not exactly _strangely_ , but cautiously amused. "Jack, I'm afraid I don't have all of that. They're different types of flowers with different blooming seasons, and some of them can't be put into a bouquet."

Jack looked forlornly at the list on his phone, then sighed. "I suppose it wasn't very well thought out."

"Is there anything else you had in mind?"

Jack looked at the list for a few more seconds. Just when he was about to give up and ask for help, his eyes lit up. "Can you do a rose bouquet?"

"Of course." Estelle walked around the counter and led him to what looked like a flower refrigerator. "Something pre-arranged, or you do want to pick them out?"

Jack nodded, staring at the flowers—all colorful and in full bloom—before snapping back to reality. "I'm sorry, what?"

Estelle laughed. "Are you interested in a pre-made arrangement, or do you want to pick out the flowers?"

"Can I pick them?" Jack turned his phone on again. "I have the colors, can I?.."

"Read them out, dear." She opened the door, prepared to pull out the necessary flowers. Jack held it for her. "Thank you, Jack."

"Anytime, Estelle." He grinned at her; she was like his grandmother, just more open and accepting. "So… a pink rose… a yellow rose… a deep pink rose, a peach or coral rose, a pink rose… what's a bridal rose?"

"This one."

"A bridal one." Jack paused and watched her take another bridal rose that was more similar in length to the ones she already had. "A yellow rose… and a red one, another pink, an orange… and a deep pink rose."

Estelle looked up at him. "That's all?"

"Yeah." Jack put his phone in his pocket. He waited for Estelle to move back to the counter, then shut the door and followed her. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, dear," she said as she arranged the flowers and wrapped them loosely in a clear paper.

"Thank you," Jack said again. He took a business card from the counter. "Can I… uh, can I call here? Just… I don't know, to tell you how it goes? Say 'thank you' again when he gets the flowers?"

Estelle's face lit up. Jack had been expecting a police explanation of why that wasn't possible, or something along the lines of _you'll need to buy something to do that_ , but Estelle's face told a different story. "That would be very nice, Jack, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course." He handed over a credit card and carefully took the bouquet. "Thank you, again. I… really, thank you."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Jack left, admiring the bouquet and carefully putting it in the SUV's passenger seat.

He really didn't have a good reason for being so thankful, but he'd really liked Estelle. She was the grandmother type—and was probably an actual grandmother, but Jack was considering returning just to talk to her; she was nice and understanding, and she probably knew _exactly_ what he was going to try to say with the flowers.

He turned on the car and glanced at the clock.

That had taken a bit more time than he'd thought.

.oOo.

Ianto's car was standing next to the hotel and Ianto himself was in the lobby.

Jack saw him immediately when he came in, looking just as good as ever. He was sitting in one of the leather armchairs, projecting an image of calm and propriety, but Jack thought it was more fitting to say that Ianto was _lounging_.

He seemed to notice Jack, too, and stood up. Jack couldn't say that he was angry—he was 45 minutes late and had neglected to call, so Ianto had every right to be—but he certainly didn't look pleased.

"Ianto," Jack said immediately.

"Jack."

"I took a bit of a detour—"

"I know."

"And I got you flowers!"

"Oh."

If Jack didn't know any better, he'd say that Ianto was speechless. But Ianto didn't _get_ speechless. He gave over the bouquet. "You like 'em?"

"Roses." Ianto took it and grinned. "I love them."

 **(Quick note: yes, the flowers _are_ going to be explained at a later date - I hope it's going to be a clear explanation :P - but you can just as well look them up or ask if you're actually curious about them. Thanks for reading!)**


	22. Chapter 22

Before accepting the flowers, Ianto had probably been mad at Jack for being late. Jack wasn't the best with being on time, and he took full responsibility for it. After all, he had Ianto's number; he could have easily called.

But he hadn't, and now it was too late, and all that was left for him was to grovel. And grovel he did—for a full five minutes, until Ianto told him to stop being stupid and just accept the fact that it had happened.

Ianto ended up forgiving him.

Jack was pleased; he didn't think he was ready to handle their first fight.

Jack blamed his love of dramatic gestures on adventure films. His mom loved them when he'd been little, and he loved his mom, and many a-rainy afternoon had been spent in front of the TV. They'd watched light-hearted and over-the-top swashbucklers and ridiculous romantic comedies, and _yes_ , his first impression of romance probably hadn't been a healthy or accurate one.

The only way he knew how to get a happy ending was to ride off into the sunset, which was not realistic, but Jack had come to terms with that over the past weeks of getting to know Ianto and building up a relationship.

He didn't mind that Ianto wasn't one for making large gestures—and told him so four days later.

Ianto was a private person, as the evidence pointed to, but he wasn't closed off, just… not open. He'd _become_ more cheerful as their relationship progressed, losing the _loneliness_ that Jack had at first noticed. He was relaxed and _happy_ with Jack, not just pretending, and five days after giving him the flowers, Jack gave him a hotel key.

It was all very cliché and romantic, but it made Jack happy; made him think that Ianto was happy, too.

.oOo.

"Dinner?" Jack asked Ianto—who was lounging on the bed and reading a well-worn book—six days later.

"Is it that time already?" Ianto lifted his head from the book; Jack hadn't glanced at the title, so he didn't know what it was.

"Just about, yeah." Jack nodded. "Room service, or do you want to brave the outside world?"

They'd stayed inside for the past two nights, too tired to go anywhere after spending the days attending a visiting historian's lectures. Ianto seemed to be thinking.

"Let's go out," he said finally. "Not too far, maybe that place down the road?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, let's try it. You've had your eye on it for—what, a week and a half, now?"

Ianto shrugged. "Gwen recommended it. She and Rhys go out on Fridays, and they always try to make it special, so if she says something's good, it probably is."

"Alright," Jack agreed. "Thirty minutes?"

"Yeah, alright."

It took a bit longer than half an hour, though, because they decided to conserve water by taking advantage of the hotel's extra-large bathroom and sharing a shower. They took a second shower anyway, in the end, which was much more productive than the first.

Jack laughed at that as they made their way to the restaurant, ignoring Ianto's questioning look with a smile and a calm _It's a good day_ , before taking his hand.

Ianto didn't respond with anything but a smile.

.oOo.

Five days later, Jack woke up before Ianto did, checked the clock, and saw that it was nine. Beside him, Ianto was sleeping, but barely. He was half-sitting against several pillows that were piled against the headboard, and he was holding a book. Jack knew his tastes were eclectic, but this seemed like a simple pleasure read; a thin paperback, probably Fleming or Christie.

As Jack watched, Ianto shifted, scrunching up his face before turning onto his side and curling around the book. They hadn't gone to bed that late, but Ianto must have woken up early; the book was almost finished, even if Jack couldn't see the title.

At any other time, Jack would have rolled over and gone back to sleep, probably ending up cuddling Ianto. But the last time he'd fallen asleep with a book, Ianto had been upset that he'd creased the pages. Now, Jack tried to pry the book away without waking Ianto, then decided that he'd get an early start on the morning.

Ianto finally woke up about half an hour later, and Jack was engrossed in his work.

He didn't have a _job_ , but he freelanced as a photographer, sending his best impersonal pictures to various friends and acquaintances around the world. He did it mostly to avoid boredom, because it didn't pay handsomely and he didn't _need_ the money. His schedule was sporadic and his pictures unprofessional—he'd spent a semester learning, but not seriously—but it made him feel productive.

He let Ianto distract him with a _good morning_ kiss, but continued working as Ianto went through his morning routine, closing his laptop when they decided to head out for breakfast.

"What were you working on?" Ianto asked as Jack waited for his coffee to cool.

"The pictures of the bay from that time we went to the beach last week," he said. "They're pretty good." _Especially the ones of you_.

Ianto nodded. "That was fun."

"Yeah, it was."

It couldn't compare to the bright and sandy beaches in the tropics, but it wasn't the same thing. Island beaches were elusive and expensive; impersonal for all their flair. The beach in Penarth that they'd gone to—they hadn't had the time to go anywhere farther—was swarmed with families and slightly cold despite the sun. It wasn't glamorous or magnificent. But the sentiment behind it was.

"I'm not sure if you're brooding or being sappy," Ianto's voice interrupted.

Jack laughed. "The latter."

"That's good."

Jack waited a minute. "So, what were you reading?"

"You didn't notice? It was right next to your laptop."

"I was too busy looking at _you_." Jack grinned as Ianto merely rolled his eyes.

"Conan Doyle," Ianto said. " _The Firm of Girdlestone_."

"Lesser-known work of a great author?"

"Something like that, yeah."

The rest of the conversation continued in much the same manner, spanning from favorite books to hated books, to a sudden, surprised _I need to return it today_.

Jack paused, staring. Random outbursts from Ianto were rare, and he blinked before letting out an eloquent, "What?"

"Sorry." Ianto half-grinned, probably slightly embarrassed. "I need to return him to the library today. Doyle."

"Do that when we head out for lunch?" Jack suggested. "Pick something near the library, and kill two birds with one stone?"

"Alright," Ianto agreed, and the conversation continued.

Still, it was after lunchtime that they went to the library. Jack had lost his hotel key, and needed a new one, but the clerk at the desk had refused—"You requested five cards already, Sir, I need to call the manager"—and even if Jack had come out on top, it had taken about an hour.

They got there eventually, after a late and lavish lunch. Jack was prepared for Ianto to give the book back and for them to be on their way, but he hadn't counted on the way Ianto's eyes lit up when they entered, or on the confidence—just a bit different than usual—that he'd held himself with.

He gave Ianto a grin and motioned for him to indulge. "Don't let me stop you."

Ianto nodded. He clearly liked libraries, and now, Jack liked them, too.

As Ianto perused a shelf with history books, Jack found a collection of space photographs to leaf through.

The quiet was relaxing, and Jack didn't want to break it. Instead of commenting, he raised an eyebrow when Ianto began looking through something that was probably an encyclopedia.

Ianto caught his look and smiled. "You _can_ talk, you know."

Jack nodded, and tried to match his volume to Ianto's: "So what exactly did you _do_?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, at school." Jack looked at him properly. "You said you did history, but that's such a broad topic. You're far too comfortable here for someone who didn't spend years in libraries. So what was it: research? Archaeology?"

"A bit of everything, really. I spent several years focused on the Classics, but those are pretty well-known, so I switched to something more home-grown during my last year. History of folklore, I think it was: just the basics, really, at that point." He paused. "It… it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"What's this book?— _French Revolutions_ —is this a new interest, then?" Jack smiled, attempting to draw Ianto's focus away from the past.

"No." Ianto shook his head. "Just thought I'd brush up on my knowledge…. Unless you want to leave?"

"Not at all."

.oOo.

Because Jack lived out of the hotel, the closest they got to eating at home was when Ianto made them coffee with the hotel-provided machine. Dinner was eaten in bed, in the hotel restaurant, or in a pub somewhere nearby. Sometimes—like the previous night, when Ianto had treated him—, they did something more fancy.

Tonight, though, they bought fish and chips on the way back to the hotel, eating as they walked.

It wasn't that late when they got back, but they got ready for bed anyway, deciding to snuggle up with a movie and indulging in the pure _domesticity_ of the moment.

That's what it was: domesticity. Jack had barely applied the word to himself before, only associating it with his childhood. His relationship with John had been too destructive, his relationship with the Doctor and Rose had been too brief and too adventurous, his relationship with Lucia had been too forced.

Ianto, on the other hand… They had separate rituals and joint rituals, they spent nights together and didn't feel awkward in silence, they were passionate and romantic but not forcing any of it.

It had only taken two weeks, but they seemed to fit together seamlessly.

It had only been two weeks, and the longest time they'd been apart was for two hours.

It had only been two weeks, and the only time Ianto had left with his bag had been to get a change of clothes.

 _It had only been two weeks…_

Jack sat up straight and fixed Ianto with a look. "You've moved in with me!"


	23. Chapter 23

It was quiet. Jack's question hung between them. If he was a more dramatic man, Jack would say that he could hear its echo, but he wasn't. The silence wasn't dramatic. It wasn't even tense. It was just… there.

And then Ianto, still pressed against Jack, shrugged slightly. "I suppose so."

Jack had expected denial. That must have shown, because Ianto tensed. He still didn't move from where he and Jack were cuddling, but he didn't look at Jack, either. He was quiet for a minute, before noticeably bracing himself. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry." After all, it wasn't like Jack didn't think their relationship was serious. He just hadn't been expecting it. "But I'm sorry for being so dramatic."

"You?" Ianto snorted. "Dramatic?"

Jack laughed and playfully nudged him. "You know what I meant. I didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, I was just surprised."

Ianto hummed quietly. "You don't mind?"

"No, I don't think I do." Jack felt him relax. He really _didn't_ mind; if anything, he was flattered. "I _do_ want to know why, though, but… you don't have to tell me. Not right now, anyway, it's almost midnight. And if you don't want to… I don't know, you don't have to."

"No, I _do_ have to," Ianto corrected. "I can't just move in with you, that's not…"

"I hate to tell you this, but you've _already_ moved in with me; it's why we're having this talk in the first place." Jack laughed lightly. "But we can save the story for tomorrow."

"Okay," Ianto said softly. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Good night, Ianto."

.oOo.

When Jack woke up the next morning, he was alone. An experimental touch to the place where Ianto had slept showed it to be cold. The lights in the room were out, the bathroom door was open, and Ianto was nowhere to be seen.

Jack swallowed against a lump in his throat. He called out an experimental _Ianto!_ but got no response. He tried once more, to the same silence, and sunk back into the bed, covering his face with one hand.

Ianto was gone.

Jack sighed. He wanted to mope, he really did, and he _was_ going to. But no man should mope on an empty stomach—it was just adding another pain.

He forced himself out of bed and to open the windows. The morning—but not really morning, because the sun was shining from far above the surrounding buildings—was bright and cheerful; if Jack was a dramatic man, he'd say that it was mocking him.

It wasn't, though.

Jack shook his head and turned away from the window, moving to the bathroom to make himself presentable before ordering breakfast and having a hearty mope about—

"Oof!"

Jack groaned and picked himself up from the floor. In his anger—which wasn't really anger, or even frustration, more like disappointment and a distinct feeling of loss—, he'd forgotten to look where he was going, and had tripped over something. He looked down to see what it was, and—

"Oh."

He knelt down and looked again. It was Ianto's bag. He chanced a look inside, not wanting to pry, and saw that it hadn't been emptied: clothes, laptop, charger, books.

(The Doctor and Rose had taken their stuff with them.)

Jack let out a deep breath. Ianto wasn't gone.

He didn't know _where_ he was, but he wasn't gone. The only thing out of his belongings that was gone was his phone, so Jack knew he should probably call him. He didn't, though, no matter how much he wanted to. If Ianto was gone, it was probably for a reason, and Jack still needed to shower, and brush his teeth, and change.

But he was a happier man doing that, knowing that Ianto wasn't _gone_.

An hour later, he finished breakfast, realizing after putting the tray out into the corridor that he had no idea where Ianto was.

He fumbled for his phone and was just about to call Ianto when he paused. Surely, Ianto would have told him where he went if he'd wanted to be found. Could he call Ianto? He _could_ , but would that be the best way to go?

Jack rubbed a tired hand over his face. He'd been up for only an hour, and he was exhausted. The past two weeks had been amazing, him and Ianto living together in the perfect mix of romance and domesticity and understanding and just… being happy.

Every inch of Jack wanted to leave Ianto alone and let him come back when he was ready; every inch of Jack wanted to find Ianto and finally talk with him and get back to what they'd had.

Jack wasn't a patient man, and that was no secret to him, so ten minutes later found him leaving the hotel in the direction of the Plass.

Was trying to find Ianto at work any better than calling him? Jack didn't have an answer. He just had a mission: find Ianto, hug Ianto, talk to Ianto, kiss Ianto.

.oOo.

The wind coming from the bay was unusually harsh, but Jack had experienced enough Welsh weather to know that it never did anything anyone told it to do, so even calling it 'unusual' didn't make sense.

It wasn't the most windy day, but it was enough to make his coat billow around his legs, and so, Jack found himself on the Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff, Wales, facing the majestic sight that was the Millennium Centre.

He didn't linger as he usually did, and walked away from the main area to a wide staircase leading out to a dock, right next to the water. It was beautiful but cold, but Jack didn't linger there, either—not even to take a picture—and purposefully walked to the end of the dock.

There was a small shop there, a tourist office, and he knew it well, having spent weeks there with Ianto. He approached, and had expected to be met with the fairy lights and the _Open_ sign, but the lights were off and there was no sign in the window, not even the polite _Closed_.

Jack frowned and looked through the window. The inside was barer than the last time he'd been there, and he couldn't see… well, anything. Because of its position _in_ the Plass, the tourist office couldn't function off of natural light.

Jack pushed the door and allowed himself inside. Ianto's desk, near the wall, was still there, but there wasn't a computer on it, or any papers. The shelves and stacks of postcards, souvenir books, and information packets were gone.

"I should have told you."

Jack whirled around at the sound of Ianto's voice. He was leaning against the doorway to the other room, colorful beads around him.

"Told me what?" Jack said.

Ianto waved around the room with his free hand; his other held a coffee cup. When Jack didn't respond, Ianto shrugged. "They closed it. I knew it was coming, I guess, but… well."

"You lost your job?" Jack ventured carefully, approaching.

Ianto snorted. "You could say that."

Jack stopped in front of him. The cup was empty. There wasn't even a sign of coffee in it. He didn't know why he noticed, but he did. "What's with the cup?"

"I came by to get it," Ianto said. "All my other stuff's in storage. Apparently, when they take away your job and close the building where you worked, you can't keep using the back room as a backup flat. I knew I left the cup somewhere, so I thought to search for it. I got lucky."

"Right. Lucky." Jack paused. "Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"What about your flat?"

"What _about_ my flat?"

"You said you had one." Jack smiled to show that he didn't mean it in a harsh manner. "Why… well, why isn't your stuff there?"

"I don't have it, obviously." Ianto snorted and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Why?" Ianto echoed.

"Yes. Why?"

"Why I'm sorry or why I don't have my flat?" Ianto asked in what was probably meant to be a light-hearted manner. It wasn't.

"Both."

"I don't have a flat because I don't have a job." He looked around again. "And I'm sorry because I didn't tell you and accidentally—it _was_ accidentally, I swear—moved in with you."

"Okay," Jack said calmly.

"Really?"

"Well…" _It's not that it's_ not _okay._ "I mean… I don't _mind_ —the fact that you moved in, I mean—at least I _think_ I don't mind, unless you're a murderer on the run…"

"No, I'm not a murderer," Ianto said with a sigh. "I just… made some choices, and my life spun a bit out of control."

"How so?"

"I… uh. Well." Ianto cleared his throat, and Jack moved one step closer and put a cautious hand on his arm. Ianto made to pull away, but Jack held onto him, and he relaxed a bit. "You know that I went to London for uni, but I never planned on coming back."

"And then you did."

He nodded. "And then I did. I was almost done, you know. I just… I couldn't finish."

"What happened?"

"I had a girlfriend."

Jack recalled Ianto mentioning her once; no name, just _it didn't end well_. He gave Ianto an encouraging smile. "What happened?"

"I lost her."

Jack didn't ask what he meant. Had she died? Had she left him? Cheated on him? Had Ianto done the leaving and the cheating? He decided it didn't matter. Jack cautiously moved himself closer to Ianto. "And you?"

"I lost myself, for a bit." It sounded a bit like an admission—to Jack, or to _himself_?Ianto looked like he was thinking, but didn't move away from Jack. If anything, he leaned closer. "I came back home. I didn't know what else to do. Didn't finish, like I said. Didn't really do anything; I was on autopilot for a while. Gwen—I knew her from school, and she volunteered everywhere, so she _could_ —got me a job here, but… I was on the verge of losing it for months. The tourist board's not rich, and this isn't exactly a beneficial location, and there's only so much they can do for an employee who… just doesn't… doesn't try, I guess."

The phonecalls with Gwen, Ianto's hidden but obvious melancholy when they'd first met… Jack pushed those thoughts away and said, "And your flat?"

"Didn't work, couldn't pay." Ianto, for the very first time, looked truly embarrassed. Not the way he'd looked when he'd propositioned Jack, or when he'd admitted to his fear. He was mortified, but he was still looking at Jack as if he would disappear; by the minute, Jack was thinking that he would _never_. "I tried, I really did, but it was too late."

"And then you moved in with me," Jack finished.

Ianto nodded.

Jack gestured around. "Were you planning on coming back? To the hotel, I mean."

Ianto nodded. "I wouldn't leave you."

"I wouldn't want you to."


	24. Chapter 24

Ianto nodded back at him.

"Really, I wouldn't." Jack squeezed his hands. "So how about we go out to lunch? Just you and me, no problems or arguments—not that we have either."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jack nodded firmly, and kissed Ianto's nose for good measure. "This… Ianto, what we have is good. It's _really_ good. I like it. I don't know about you, but—"

"I like it, too."

"That's good." Jack beamed. "Don't you see? There'll be plenty time for thinking about the future, but right now it's lunchtime, and there's no shame in making the most of it for now. Not that I'm saying that this is going to burn out, or that we won't be able to make this work."

Ianto laughed. "You really _are_ a romantic!"

"That's nothing to be ashamed of." Jack kissed him again. "I told you yesterday that we can talk later. And we _will_ , I promise. We _need_ to. But that's no reason we have to do it in a dingy tourist office with no electricity! We can even do it over lunch, if you're so inclined, although I'd love for it to just be… you know, us. What we had before: it was nice, not that I'm saying we have to live in a problem-less world."

"I know what you mean."

"Or we can talk about it back at the hotel?" Jack offered. "Or dinner. Or tomorrow. I like you. I like you a lot. And there's no reason we can't work this out. I, for one, don't think there's much _to_ work out, so maybe we just need to have a conversation. I tell you about myself, you tell me about yourself…"

"Or we could start with the lunch?" Ianto said hurriedly.

Jack nodded. "Or we could start with the lunch."

.oOo.

Jack asked Ianto to tell him about London. Not its modern history or his life there, but anything he wanted. And so Ianto began. From the building of the city, to its destructions, and branching of for several minutes about Shakespeare. He talked a bit of the underground system and the Industrial Revolution, but he didn't linger on anything.

Jack found him to be an enticing speaker and easy to listen to. Ianto seemed comfortable and confident, but if Jack had learned anything from his time with Ianto, it was that Ianto didn't like to dominate conversation. He _could_ , of course, and he _would_ , but it made him feel uncomfortable. "Conversation," Ianto had said once, "is like sex. You need more than one person, or it's just wanking. And that's just not as much fun."

So when there was a slight lull in his monologue—which Ianto had probably done on purpose—Jack jumped in with his own contributions. He knew less about the mundane facts and more about the tourist information, but soon they moved on to talking about remote cultures, and Jack began talking about his other travels.

He didn't run out of stories to tell, and contrary to what most of his listeners thought, they weren't embellished.

As usual, Ianto listened with rapt attention, putting in his two cents when he felt the need to. But Jack could tell that he _didn't_ feel the need to, so Ianto managed to take the attention off himself.

In the context of a normal conversation, that would have just been a point to laugh at or ignore—or for Jack to think about for days, because Ianto was a great man with a great character, so there was no reason for him to not be the center of attention. But in the context of their talk in the tourist office, Ianto's silence was far from calming.

Jack wanted to know what he thought, was he felt, but _forthcoming_ wasn't a word Jack would associate with Ianto. Not with himself, either, but all he really wanted to do was hug Ianto and tell him that he wasn't mad, or angry, or upset.

So that was what he did.

Mid-sentence, Jack reached across the table and took Ianto's hand, then tugged him closer for a long hug.

He wanted to say something else, too, about how there were so many things to apologize for, but this wasn't one of them, and that Jack always— _always_ —cared for his friends and listened to them, and that Ianto was no exception because Jack cared for _him_ , but Ianto didn't let him, leaving some money on the table and pulling him out of the restaurant.

Ianto hadn't let go of his hands, and they were walking somewhere, though Jack didn't know exactly _where_ , and when Ianto didn't say anything, he tried a tentative, "Ianto?"

"You're amazing, you know that?" Ianto didn't look at him, but Jack saw that he was smiling, and had a wonderful tint to his voice—something like _happiness_ , but Jack didn't want to assume—like his words were bursting out but he couldn't control them or didn't want to. "You're marvelous, Jack! Just… perfect, wonderful, and all those other sappy words you use so much."

"Ianto…" _Kiss me. Right now._

"And I just…" He paused and finally looked at Jack. "I'm not that good at words, no matter how often you make me talk because you have an unhealthy obsession with Welsh, and no matter what you say, some fetishes _do_ have to be kept personal, although I'm still not sure if this is one of them, and… where was I? Oh. Right. I'm not much of a talker, Jack—"

"Then let your actions speak for you."

Ianto threw his head back and laughed. "I don't think there's anything I can say to make this sound more ridiculous… but I don't think I care."

And Jack didn't care, either, because it turned out that Ianto had been leading him towards the hotel.

.oOo.

"I meant it, you know," Ianto said late that evening, long after they'd had dinner.

Jack looked at him questioningly. "Meant what?"

"That you're amazing." Ianto's voice took on a matter-of-fact tone. "I think you're great. You're—"

Jack laughed. "Ditto." He rolled his eyes when Ianto snorted, and pulled him closer for a proper cuddle.

"I mean it." Ianto looked at him seriously. "You're… being in my life… this, us, it's incredible. I lost myself for a while, _before_ , and—you helped me. I'm not exactly sure how, but you gave me meaning again. Made me want to do things, to feel things—to live. I…" He trailed off and looked at Jack again. "Is that too much?"

Jack swallowed. "Maybe a little. But… thank you, Ianto."


	25. Chapter 25

Jack wasn't without his own insecurities. No man was, he was sure. Some were worse, some were better, but they were all there. He considered himself to be fortunate: knowing what they were made them easier to fight. And fight he did.

The past two days had clearly revealed to him that Ianto wasn't perfect. By his own account, he had just _stopped_ for months: stopped working, stopped paying for his flat, and that he'd only recently put attention into those things again, only to lose his job, and thus any way of paying for his flat.

He'd been apprehensive about sharing this much with Jack, but had eventually conceded and cleared everything up. Ianto even moved some of his things into the hotel room—which Jack was paying for as a long-term residence, no matter how Ianto argued—, namely the coffee machine.

Jack considered it a fair trade, really, even if Ianto didn't: living arrangements in exchange for the best coffee he'd ever had.

But after a few more days, things seemed to be completely back to normal, and Jack's old fears of abandonment—courtesy of the Doctor and Rose, and awoken by Ianto leaving that morning—were pushed back to where they belonged.

Jack didn't like dwelling on his insecurities, even if he was fully aware and accepting of them. There were other things to dwell on, anyway, like the ease with which he and Ianto had moved from strangers to friends to lovers to boyfriends to _live-in boyfriends_.

It was much more enjoyable to dwell on, and Jack focused his gaze on Ianto, who was furiously—or just energetically—typing something into his laptop. He contemplated interrupting and asking what he was doing, but Ianto looked so focused, Jack decided against it. Ianto would tell him in his own time if it was interesting, but for now, he'd drink his third coffee of the day—which, Jack knew, happened only if what he was doing was really important—and keep typing.

Ianto-watching was one of Jack's favorite hobbies, and he considered himself a professional already. When Ianto looked away from the laptop—not up or at Jack, but a momentary glance to the side—Jack knew that he was just about finished.

"You were staring," Ianto said mildly.

Jack shrugged as if to say _Well, what can you do?_ And Ianto laughed softly.

They had dinner at the hotel again. It was interesting to Jack to know that the servers, when talking about them, now called Ianto either _Ianto_ , or _Mr. Jones_ , not just _1007's boyfriend._

Like everything else to do with his and Ianto's relationship, the thought made him swoon; Ianto was becoming his own person, a fixture in their routine, not just a one-time visitor.

He even caught Ianto's grin at the words.

They stayed up watching several Bond films, and fell asleep long after midnight, but when Jack woke up, it was after lunch and he was alone. Jack sighed and turned his attention to the note on the bedside table that he'd just noticed.

 _Off for errands. Back after lunch._

 _Love, Ianto_

Jack didn't know what Ianto meant by "lunch", because it was nearly one, but they sometimes didn't eat until five and still jokingly called it _lunch_. So Jack made up his mind to get ready at his own pace and expect Ianto at anytime until six.

He was still only half-dressed when the door opened about an hour later, but instead of the handful of Ianto he'd been expecting, Jack found himself with a facefull of flowers. He couldn't even see Ianto's upper body, let alone his face.

"Ianto?" he asked, just in case, addressing the part of the bouquet where Ianto's face would have been.

"Of course." The voice was slightly muffled, but definitely his, and Ianto was thrusting the flowers forward, as if he was telling Jack to take them.

Jack did, barely managing to hold on to the floral mess of at least twenty different flowers. He let it down on the table, then turned around for his _hello_ and _good morning_ kiss, only to be handed a pineapple and a flower pot with an orchid in it.

Jack looked back at the bouquet, then at Ianto's smile, then at the two new gifts. He swallowed. "Ianto?"

"Yes?"

"Any reason you got these particular flowers?"

Ianto smiled. "I thought it obvious."

Jack nodded, and gestured to the bouquet. "And those, too?"

Ianto nodded in return. "Dwarf sunflower: admiration; tall sunflower: appreciation… amethyst: admiration, again. Lily: sweetness. Red tulip, blue violet… well. Orchid is beauty, pineapple is—"

"'You are perfect'," Jack interrupted.

Ianto nodded.

Jack laughed. "I thought it'd look stupid if I brought you a pineapple. How do you know all this? Did you look it up?"

"You didn't know I knew?"

Jack shook his head. _It's not like people walk around using Victorian flower language on a daily basis_. "I thought I'd be discreet, but apparently you knew exactly what I was trying to say with the roses."

Ianto gave a small laugh and nodded. "It was kind of hard not to when there was such a strange arrangement of colors. Also the bridal rose… _happy love_ , isn't it?"

Jack nodded.

"The three yellow ones were affection, happiness, and joy. And the three pink were admiration, friendship, and new love," Ianto continued. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yeah."

Ianto laughed. "I appreciate it more, you know. More than I would have if I didn't know what the flowers meant."

" _How_ do you know this?" Jack asked lightly. He was pleasantly surprised, if only because this new information made Ianto seem even more attractive.

"My gran had a garden," Ianto responded. "She was the one that kept it, of course, but she let me help sometimes. Water some flowers, plant some buds, that sort of thing. She let slip something about the language, and I just… read up on it. A lot. To be honest, I didn't think much of it until you decided to be romantic and give that bouquet."

Jack laughed. "You know, I'm not going to stop with the flowers."

"Really?"

"Really." He grinned. "Not often, of course, 'cause that just wouldn't be as fun, but sometimes. When you least expect it."

"Okay." Ianto nodded easily.

Jack set the pineapple and orchid pot on the table next to the bouquet, then moved away from Ianto and went towards one of the closets. There was a safe in the back of it, and an ironing board. The coffee and tea supplies had been there, too, until Jack and Ianto had liberated them. He found the vase, made a detour to the bathroom to fill it, then came back and put the bouquet into it.

"Think they'll survive?" he asked.

Ianto shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe. But it's been a while since I've done anything with flowers."

"Alright." Jack gave the bouquet a critical look. "I think it'll be fine. Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how to take care of an orchid?"

"I'll look it up."

They ate the pineapple after dinner, and watered the flowers the next morning, and Jack spent several minutes looking at the bouquet—which shouldn't have looked so good, because there was no way a red morning glory, a rhododendron, and a sprig of white jasmine were supposed to be next to each other.

Whatever florist Ianto had found, they'd been good.

 **(Ridiculous romance cliches? Me? Also, yes, I absolutely love flower language :P)**


	26. Chapter 26

It was the end of August when Jack got the email. It wasn't nearly so dramatic, but still.

He and Ianto had been living together for about a month now, and things were going even better than before. Without Ianto hiding his financial situation and Jack not worrying about the strength of his feelings, neither of them was scared of the future. Ianto had even been looking at various jobs in the area; Jack knew that Ianto's peace of mind required being busy.

At the moment, they were both checking their mail, like they did every morning now—Jack was, at least, while Ianto was sitting on the other end of the table and furiously typing something.

The email was from a friend of his called Toshiko. They'd met in London after Jack had left the RAF and had been looking for a job—he'd decided against the whole job thing pretty quickly, but Toshiko had become a successful computer programmer… or something. She did a bit of everything for multiple major companies; in her world, she was a celebrity.

Theirs had been purely a friendship, but it was one of Jack's closest relationships. He'd even told her about Ianto—not everything, but a lot—and knew, in turn, all about her 'friend' Owen.

Now, as Toshiko's email said, she and Owen were getting married and it _would mean the world to them if Jack could attend_.

The wedding was in a little over a month, in Toshiko's home country of Japan, and he had two weeks to RSVP. He did so immediately, because it was _Toshiko_ , and if there were two people more deserving of happiness than her and Owen, Jack would have a hard time finding them.

"Good news?" Ianto asked then, and Jack realized that he'd been smiling like an idiot.

He nodded. "My friend's getting married. Set a date, too."

"That's amazing!" Ianto grinned; Jack knew he was just as much of a romantic as he was, even if he was better at hiding it.

Jack nodded, then said, "Did Gwen set a date yet?" She'd been engaged for the past five months, and though he had no personal experience, he was under the impression that these sort of things were done fairly quickly; he hadn't even known that Toshiko and Owen were together, let alone engaged.

But Ianto just shrugged, his annoyance at the situation being only obvious because he'd discussed it with Jack before. "They decided they want a summer wedding. _This_ summer wasn't suitable, for whatever reason, so they're waiting 'till next year."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Jack read the email again. Toshiko and Owen, he knew, had been in love for years. Months of mutual pining had given way to an actual relationship and they would soon be tying the knot, and Jack couldn't be more thrilled.

He looked away from the email when he heard Ianto close his own laptop with a groan of frustration. Ianto had been looking for a job for the past month, which meant he was spending a lot of time on the computer, but this was something else. Jack was sure that he was doing something else, but he didn't know for sure because it had never come up in conversation.

"What're you working on?"

"Trying to finish school."

 _What?_ Jack tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. He hadn't known anything about it, but probably because Ianto didn't like talking about his time in London—which Jack respected, though he would be ready to listen at any time—and his schooling was intimately connected to that.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Jack asked, "How's it going?"

"I thought it would be easier." Ianto laughed self-deprecatingly. "Although juggling education and job-hunting isn't a walk in the park. Didn't really expect it to take this long, but there's something to be said for how easy it is to procrastinate with online schooling."

Jack chuckled at the tired look on Ianto's face—not that he was making light of Ianto's plight; on the contrary, he was proud of him for deciding to take life into his own hands. Nevertheless, Ianto looked shattered. And it was just barely past lunchtime. "I think you need to get out."

" _Sorry_?"

"No. _No_." Jack's eyes widened as he realized how Ianto'd interpreted his words. He shook his head for good measure. "No, not like that at all. I mean get out of the house: go outside, have some fun, get distracted a bit. You're working too hard, and even I know that online schooling isn't as strict with time like actually going to classes."

Ianto nodded as if he was starting to agree. He gave the laptop a sad look. "But if I leave now, I'll never finish."

Jack just grinned invitingly. "It's completely up to you, but _I'd_ love an afternoon in the park."

Ianto nodded. It had only been a token protest, anyway.

.oOo.

Autumn had not yet come to Cardiff, and the green trees and grass proclaimed serenity. It had been a relatively mild summer, much to Ianto's surprise—he always expected the worst, but was wrong almost as much as he was right.

They found themselves walking through one of Cardiff's parks, Jack idly eating a cone of strawberry ice-cream that Ianto had bought after he'd expressed interest. Ianto himself didn't have ice-cream, as he only rarely ate it, but he looked relaxed under the warm sun and cool summer breeze.

"Good idea to get out, yeah?" Jack asked with a grin.

Ianto nodded. "It's a good day."

"Let me guess, it won't last?" Jack teased.

He was expecting a straightforward nod, but Ianto looked at the sky and shrugged. "I dunno."

Jack nudged his shoulder playfully. "Don't tell me you're becoming an optimist."

Ianto shrugged again, a playful twinkle in his eyes—which were just as amazingly blue as ever. "I might be."

"A realistic optimist, then?"

"Yeah, I'd say so."

Jack nodded, thus giving his assent. He finished his ice-cream and watched Ianto again, and both were content not to talk.

Though he knew that Ianto had plenty of time to relax—Jack often being the instigator of the relaxation—, Ianto looked blissfully free, now. He was free from the confinement of a building—he always seemed to be happier outside—and from the relative stress of trying to finish school.

He caught a shadow passing over Ianto's face, and nudged him again. "Work'll always be there, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ianto's face cleared, and he laughed. "Thanks for the reminder."

Jack shrugged. "You seemed like you needed it."

"I suppose I did. I guess I'm just trying to catch up."

"There's nothing wrong with being productive," Jack said, seeing that Ianto didn't seem to completely understand that. "But—"

"The work is always going to be there," Ianto finished.

"Exactly." Jack leaned over and gave him a strawberry-flavored kiss.

Ianto laughed, and Jack was again struck with how beautiful he was. One didn't live with Ianto Jones without knowing that. That Jack rhapsodized was his own choice. (And not to be narcissistic, but he wasn't half-bad himself, if what Ianto said was anything to go by).

But Ianto not only looked gorgeous, he looked happy. He wasn't an outdoors person, by Jack's and by his own accord. He belonged in the city, he was _comfortable_ in the city and just now getting over his fear of the wild. But Jack, too, wouldn't want to abandon cities or civilization; he just liked to appreciate nature and have the choice to go back.

And Jack made up his mind about something he didn't know he'd been considering.

"Wanna come to Japan with me?"

"What, right now?"

"Yes."

"Are you serious?"

 _I've never been more serious about anything._ "Yes."

Ianto laughed. "So you mean pack up and go? Wake up tomorrow and go on a plane, just… just like that?"

"Well… yes." Jack shrugged. He knew he sounded mad and impractical. "And I didn't mean directly to Japan. We can make a detour to Australia or something. And anywhere else we want to. Make it long-term, even, if… if that's something we—you—would be interested in."

Ianto didn't say anything. He didn't immediately shut down, though, and Jack took it as a good sign. He didn't push or ask, but he watched. Ianto wasn't looking at him. He seemed deep in thought—he was. His brow furrowed as he was mulling it over— _was he actually? Really?_ —and Jack dared to hope.

Ianto glanced sideways at him, his eyes calculating, then he looked away. Almost as quickly, he turned his head back at Jack and _nodded_.

Jack didn't know what to say. Neither _Thank you_ nor _I love you_ seemed like enough; neither _this is amazing_ nor _are you sure?_ caught the full scope of his feelings. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

He beamed at Ianto, and then Ianto was kissing him, really kissing him, right in the middle of the park—and Jack knew then what contentment felt like.

 **(So this is it! This is where they were supposed to end up all along - preparing to travel together - but it took a bit longer to get to than I initially thought. I really wasn't sure _how_ to end it, though, but I figured that it's been a long time coming and it's a bit pointless to stress over the final paragraphs. Thanks so much to everyone for reading - and faving and following and reviewing! :D)**


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